The Clan of Samsara
by erimies
Summary: They were the clan everyone avoided, for a good reason. But Hashirama wasn't like other people and Karma ended up tangling in the ninja world revolution anyway. What he didn't know was that she knew the script of the story. OC Self-insert
1. Prologue: That clan

**Prologue: That clan**

* * *

In a forest beneath a mountain and just in the outskirts of the Land of Fire, there was a ninja clan compound; large and prosperous and also something of an oddity amongst all clans. During the violent and unstable years of the warring clans period, they had not been invaded once. In fact, no one went near their land of their free will.

They were (barely) known as 'Samsara'. The clan did not have enemies or allies and mostly kept to themselves, grew their own food and cotton and reared livestock in the rich plains they'd owned so long that no one remembered who had used to live there before.

They did kill. Sporadically, without a pattern, never choosing the same target twice in a row. Sometimes the Samsara would interrupt battles of other clans, leaving corpses of both behind. No one had ever found a clear reason for this senseless destruction, and the Samsara did not offer one.

The one thing most did know about them was their blood limit. Chakra drain, fast enough to kill even a ninja in seconds. Worse yet, they could coordinate the power and work together from a distance. It was not unusual for their target to never see them before it was too late. In time, their forest and their mountain had become the dreaded horror and vague nightmare of all shinobi.

The Samsara did not mind the isolation. They had their own reasons and their own way of living. Outsiders were not needed.

* * *

Sunlight seeped through the canopy and painted bright spots on grass and the little group of children kneeling in the meadow. Tidy black rows of crows, also, sat on the branches of the surrounding trees, silent for once and listening in.

"We do not have many rules in this clan. Do you all remember the ones we do?" asked the old man. He was bald and wrinkly, but there was something friendly in the deep crow's feet around his eyes. His voice was like old leather, worn and weary and comforting.

"Yes," chorused the children. They all wore robes of orange, red and yellow, warm and friendly colours. Some were grinning, some babbled at each other, some stared at the old man in earnest concentration. They looked to be about five years old, energetic and bright eyed. The old man smiled, wrinkles deepening into crevices. "Well, then, do tell. How about you, little Karma?"

A girl with dark hair and dark eyes smiled and spoke.

"We do not drain clan members. We do not drain young children. We do not tell clan secrets to outsiders. We do not judge."

The old man nodded, satisfied. "That is correct. Because of our nature, we Samsara appreciate and support individual freedom. Today, I will explain to you the reasons for these rules, because they are the inexcusable exceptions to that freedom. If you break them, you might be sent forth by the clan head."

The children grew serious at the words. Some glanced around at the trees. To an unassuming observer, they would not have been special. The children, though young, knew better. This was the forest of rebirth and death. All clan members were born in the forest, most died there as well.

And while the children would not come to their heritage and curse before their teenage years, they could already feel the calm aura the trees gave off. The old man felt it far more keenly. It would be his time to leave, soon. He lingered for the children, for the story he was about to tell.

With a steady voice, he spoke, the words taking the rhythmic lilt of a story.

* * *

Long time ago, not so very far from here, lived our ancestor and founder. He was born to an unwed mother and unknown father and much of his childhood he spent helping his grandfather fish in the nearby river. It was a harsh life, for his mother despaired him and his grandparents would rather that he had been born still.

As we are wont to do, in time he remembered who he had been once. Three days he wandered along the riverside in turmoil and confusion, trying to integrate both lives.

He had been Buddhist in that life lost. This was a fair fortune, for he had known to expect rebirth. While he had not thought to remember his previous life, he still withstood the confusion of identity and sorrow of loss. His lost family, friends, wife, children. Culture, language, mythology, the entire world and its complex, rich history. He grieved bitterly, yet lived on and grew to become a serious, kind man.

He did not know of his curse, as we do. He was alone, as we are not. In time, as he came to his blood, he found himself having killed his mother, his grandfather and grandmother by accident.

Through conflict of his existence as an illegitimate son, he had still loved them, and this was the moment where he came closest to madness. The empty hunger had not visited him yet, nor the fear of slipping away in sleep, but both of those can be withstood far easier than loss of love.

He buried them near the riverside and wept, bitterly, and where his tears fell, golden flowers bloomed, the colour of the leaves of our sacred trees in autumn. We believe this was also a sign of the latent power in his mother and grandparents, power that bloomed to be ugly and beautiful in their son. It might have been the blood of his unknown, unknowing father that made the difference.

He left the village after that and while wandering he knew hunger. Food he found easily, water as well, but his hunger would not be sated. This world rejected his existence, rejected his foreign soul. His body produced chakra, as do ours, but it was consumed faster than he could replenish it and he despaired having to prolong his life by taking it from others.

For some time, he persisted by choosing to take the life from those already doomed, and those who would harm others. Remember, our rules were not yet his rules. Perhaps, in his loneliness, the thought of doing something good was a path he needed to walk.

It wasn't enough. Slowly, his will to live dwindled and so did the drain grow ever stronger, as if eager to take him back to the world beyond. He might have taken his own life in time, had he not met _her_. The daughter of a peasant, kind and fair and the love of his life, who was not repelled by his powers, nor by his old soul. In time, they grew to be friends and confidants. Later yet, he asked for her hand in marriage.

Their first child was born in the winter months of dreary, pale woods that clawed at the sky with bare branches. Death watched the land and a dreadful chill was in the air.

The child did not kill her mother in birth, but it was close. She was born eyes alight with the underworld, and her father despaired, for he knew then that she had inherited his curse.

Two more children were born to them, all of them sharing the blood and the power. Desiring to protect his family, our ancestor took his children and his wife to this mountain forest and made it his own.

His eldest daughter had been a fearsome warrior. It was she who studied our power and discovered its secrets. She learned the way of ninja, how to fight with minimal cost of chakra, how to manipulate the curse. It is her legacy that we now are a force to be reckoned with and that to attack us here would be suicide. Not even Uchiha and Senju dare trespass our land.

His second child, only son, had been a scholar and an engineer. He was the one who designed the network of chakra, who made the structure of our village so that others could build up on what he started. He also tirelessly scribed his father's stories, his mother's legends, his sisters' pasts, for he more than anyone else despaired the loss of knowledge. It is in his memory we ask for your memories to be preserved for the generations to come.

The youngest child was a gentle soul. It was she who suffered the most for our way of life and it was therefore she who thought of future generations and their pain. She was the first to understand that we must not shackle each other, in order to remain united. In her will, live in joy, dance and sing and rejoice at this second chance, no matter how much the world may reject us.

In time, the family grew into a clan. In honour of our founder, they chose our name after the cycle of reincarnation. In Japanese, _rinne_. In Sanskrit, _samsara_. These two languages everyone must learn, to remind us of two facts: we are family, and there is still a world outside this compound.

Three rules were also set. We must not drain clan members. We must not drain young children. We must not tell secrets to outsiders.

For some time, the fourth rule did not exist and, indeed, we followed the way of our founder and took solace in the fact that we hunted the criminals and the dying only. It was a way to settle the guilt of taking the life of another.

Then came a time when two particular children were born. They grew to be handsome boys both and seemingly stable.

One took great pride in his ability to protect the innocent and travelled often, seeking evil where it may lurk. He was powerful and virtuous, admired by many in our clan.

The other felt strongly his own ancestry and spent much of his time in studies of history. His was a brilliant mind, easily able to comprehend, held in highest regard.

Then, slowly, their days grew sour.

The one who took joy in righteous crusade began to see evil where it was not. He slaughtered those that mocked him, those that were different from others in ways he did not approve. Those that stole to survive, those that sought the company of their own gender... he saw evil and slew them.

The one who took joy in his past grew into old preconceptions. His people had been at war for a long time and grew an enmity with their opponents that lingered through generations of peace. He began to demand that our records of these people were inaccurate and had to be changed, that they were more animals than men.

One day, the one who fought evil was found to have slaughtered an entire village. The one who sought knowledge, in turn, murdered a family member who had once been one of his enemies.

The leader of our clan at the time had once been Chinese. He did not easily adapt to our kind of life, for he was of a communal society and appreciated tradition, harmony and custom. It was not an easy decision for him to change our rules, either, but he saw the need. These two, by judging others as evil, had broken our most important laws.

The clan head henceforth forbade us to ever make moral judgements over stealing lives and drained the life of the two criminals. It is said that upon death they grew into twisted, diseased trees and soon withered away.

* * *

The children watched the old man in horror and wonder both. Some had tears in their eyes, some sat still as statues. No one spoke or fidgeted. A boy next to Karma shuddered, his face pale and wan like he was two steps from leaving the world.

The old man smiled, breaking the sombre mood. "This is why we must not judge others as evil or inferior. We kill to live, but choose our victims without personal moral. And never may we ever judge clan members for who they used to be. Now, today's lesson is over. Go run home, I believe your help is still needed for the midsummer festival."

Most of the children cheered and ran away, awe and horror already lost, but not the lesson.

Karma remained and approached the elder, who was slowly climbing to his feet. It was clear that his time was near, she thought, and wondered when they would celebrate his travel to the beyond. Perhaps next year. Maybe sooner. It was a sad thought; he had always been kind and friendly.

But there was no reason to despair death.

"What is it, little one?" His voice was patient and warm, there was no sign of annoyance. Karma gathered her courage. _They want me to always tell if something disturbs me_, she reminded herself.

"I, I've started to remember. I was European and lived most of my life after the second millennium. Lately, I've dreamed of my teenage years. But, well, there's something that bothers me."

The old man raised an eyebrow, mild curiosity in his eyes. "Do tell. I won't judge."

Both smiled at the word, almost unwillingly. Karma took a deep breath. "I remember _this _world. From my other life. There was a story, it involved the Senju and the Uchiha and the Uzumaki and a lot of other clans. And they all lived together in villages, but there was still war and bloodshed. There was chakra and hand seals and techniques and blood limits, just like here. The clan symbols match and all."

The old man looked at her, this time with academic curiosity. "Well, really now? That is very interesting. But hardly a cause of much concern, the clans in our world do not live with each other. Certainly not Uchiha and Senju. The parallels are likely meaningless, some kind of a cosmic coincidence."

Karma bit her lip. He didn't know what she had seen once, _enjoyed_ once, of course he didn't understand her anxious fear of future. "There were also two men, Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. They made peace between their clans and built that first village, Konoha. But Madara went insane."

She looked up, her young face serious and frightened. "He tried to send the entire world into a genjutsu. He might have destroyed it in the process."

The old man was silent, his eyebrows furrowed. Karma did not speak another word. The trees swayed, as always, in a wind that did not exist or, at least, did not blow in this world. They, too, seemed to wait and listen in anxiety.

"Now, that is very ill news indeed. I'm not yet convinced it was of our world you saw, but we should go meet the clan head regardless. I do believe the end of the world deserves our attention, even if the risk is low."

Karma took his hand and smiled, relieved because he had taken her seriously. As far as she knew, no one in her clan had ever remembered anything related to this new world. And it had been a manga series, of all things.

They walked away from the forest, a small girl supporting a limping old man, leaving lush green trees and a sun spotted meadow behind.

* * *

Author's Notes: That story the kids were told isn't 100% truth, because it is told as a legend and a lesson. Those two criminals probably did exist, but not at the same time. That sort of thing.

Silver Queen deserves half the credit for this story. I wrote the thing, but she was invaluable in refining ideas and came up with a lot of stuff I incorporated into this. I will also not apologise for writing a self-insert (even though Karma isn't really me), because I think the genre gets a lot of crap for poor reasons. There's no reason it can't be a good story, like Dreaming of Sunshine shows.

I have about four chapters written, hence the reason I posted this. I generally don't want to post chapter by chapter, because I don't trust myself enough to not stop writing for half a year, but this won't be a long story so I figured that where I've gotten is good enough to start posting.


	2. Growing years

**Growing years**

* * *

Karma stood still outside the house of the clan head, dodging the curious eyes of the assistant that remained outside while the other had left to tell the head he had guests. She felt somewhat apprehensive about this whole thing. It wasn't _really_ something to be feared, meeting the clan head. A cruel person would not have been elected for the position.

But most people didn't have to convince him they knew a terrible future.

People frequently told her she was exceptionally calm in nature, but she thought this was only half true - often strong emotions were there, merely concealed. Such was this moment as well; her worry only showed in the stiffness of her posture.

Karma glanced at the old man, who smiled reassuringly and squeezed at her shoulder. He looked just as calm, but for him it probably wasn't an act. Some of his chakra trickled through the contact, feeling like a calm, warm river flowing through her still developing coils.

Moments later, the assistant returned and gestured for them to follow. They were lead through a long hallway to a spacious room that was cluttered with official looking scrolls and piles of books with titles like "Chakra and Soul - Illusion of Separation" and "Ye Olde Booke of Time". On the walls were ornate wooden masks and several paintings of animals in savanna.

At the centre was a low Japanese table where tea and senbei had been set to wait, an oasis of order amidst the chaos. The shoji door leading to the back garden was open; crickets could be heard chirping in the tall grass slowly encroaching the inside of the house.

There was no one else in the room. Minutes ticked by with no sign of anyone and just when she started to feel like sneaking away because clearly they were unwanted guests, the sound of hurried footsteps carried from the hallway. The door was not so much slid open as it was sent crashing against the wall and a young man rushed in, white and yellow robes fluttering in his wake.

"Oh, terribly sorry you had to wait! Master Khanti and... Karma, was it?"

The clan head beamed at her and the old man, his face young and open and earnest. He had a short, messy mop of blond hair that curled around his ears and a warm, wide smile. There was an impression of energy to his every move.

Karma felt instantly better about talking to him.

He herded them both to kneel on the cushions set on the tatami mats and took seat on the opposite side, still grinning.

"I hope the tea is still good to drink. Really, do forgive me; I underestimated the tenacity of Madam Sarvasti. She is rather insistent on having her goat cheese and stuffed tomatoes served in the festival next week. I do not see why that has to involve _me_, I can only assume everyone else escaped!" He burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained.

He went on to embellish how exactly he had escaped from her clutches ("That woman has some powerful biceps!"), which somehow lead to a tangent about anchovies and troubles with leaking roof tiles. Karma smiled, somewhat bemused and very entertained. She wasn't sure if he had had to pause for breath even once, but before she could decide one way or the other, the old man cleared his throat.

"Well then, _Satoshi_, shall we get to the matter at hand and hear what little Karma has to say?"

The clan head paused and blinked, evidently he had still had more to say. Karma thought that his brain must work like a train: fast and powerful, but took a while to halt or change track.

Satoshi turned to her and smiled sheepishly. He looked even younger for it.

"Of course! I got the picture that this might be something big. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it," he said, voice dropping and gaining a conspirational tone.

"I've been mostly handling matters involving plumbing maintenance and trade issues until now. I kind of expected more challenge from the job. The military commander takes care of the coordination of hunting and I feel like I'm only here to stamp papers in approval. Except I never stamp any papers, which is something to be grateful for, because _paperwork_. I think I still have nightmares - "

Before he could meander further, the old man interrupted with a well-timed cough. It was short and sharp and held the kind of frustration that had almost matured into resignation. Satoshi laughed, rubbing at the back of his head. "Sorry, sorry! Go on, miss Karma!"

Karma waited until she was sure the clan head had, indeed, managed to shut up (in light of recent evidence, she didn't think she should take that for granted). Then, she spoke.

"In the village of Konoha in the Land of Fire, there lived a boy named Uzumaki Naruto. What I once read was his story. But it didn't start with him, not really. It started with Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara."

* * *

Karma wasn't sure how long it took her to tell her tale, but by the end of it her throat was dry even though she had had two refills of tea. The senbei had begun to taste like cardboard somewhere along the line and the sun was setting, painting the long grass in orange and gold.

The old man was frowning, absently stroking at his bald head. The clan head's eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth hung open. He had tried to interrupt her several times and had been swiftly silenced by master Khanti. She had a feeling this meeting would take quite a while longer yet, now that he could speak again. Hopefully she could take a bathroom break soon.

Satoshi seemed to break out of his reverie and exhaled slowly.

"That... is the most amazing thing I've heard in my _life_. Which tells something considering our clan. I- there's a lot I have to say," he said (and _that_ Karma could believe without a doubt). "But first is this. I believe everything."

Satoshi smiled at her. Although encouraging and kind, there was a grim edge to it. Karma unconsciously sat straighter.

"It's too elaborate to be nothing at all and you are not lying," Satoshi continued. "That future might yet come to pass. I will make sure this is transcribed so that we can act accordingly when that time is due. I'll have to ask you to make a memory recording, too."

Karma's eyes widened. Memory recordings were one of the most chakra intensive seals the clan had and therefore rarely used. If anything, that told her how seriously the head took her words.

Satoshi's grin lost the tense edge and he leaned forward to take Karma's hand. His chakra was lively, absorbing it was almost like a static shock. "Thanks to you, we can protect ourselves from that calamity when it arrives. But that's not the only thing I'm grateful for, and there is another reason I believe you. Do you know anything about soul statistics?"

Karma raised an eyebrow and shook her head. Satoshi grinned wider, an eager spark in his eyes.

"The proportions of souls we receive from our previous world are, frankly, peculiar. Looking back from somewhere around the second millennium, 30 percent of our people lived during the thousand years back from it, 60 percent in the whole of last three thousand and 90 percent in the last ten thousand. If we say that the history of mankind was approximately 50 000 years, those figures are disproportionate. There seems to be no pattern based on ethnicity, sex, or manner of death, so why should period of history be one? And we have _never_ had a person who was born over a decade after the year two thousand."

Karma blinked slowly, thinking back. Now that she paid conscious attention, she _did_ know many people from recent history. It was a traditional game for the clan's children to re-enact situations or stories from their previous lives. She had been a pirate, noblewoman, merchant in ancient Persia, train robber in the Old West and a Mongolian warrior, to count but a few. Only once or twice had they _ever_ played huntsmen in prairie or spiritual rituals of the dawn of mankind.

"And here, you come in," Satoshi continued, stood up and began to pace, all of his agitated energy flaring up. Karma was vaguely impressed he managed to not tip over any of the piles of books in his way, as he swept through the clutter like an unusually bright shadow.

"You were born close to that last barrier. It cannot _possibly_ be a coincidence that this story appeared near that time also. Still, I find it improbable that they should directly affect each other. It is far more likely that they are simply results of a third factor, correlation without a causal relationship. Whatever lets us be born in this world and keep our memories, probably also let through that story."

He spun around on his heels to look at Karma and the old man, robes fluttering, and pressed the tips of his fingers together. The glint in his eyes had grown almost manic.

"And yet, wouldn't it be interesting if it was _not_ a coincidence that this story was written? What if, rather than the ideas bleeding through somehow, mr. Kishimoto was a soul of this world? Our _clansman_, even, attempting to warn anyone of the future, should one of his readers appear in this world?"

They could have heard a pin drop in the silence. Karma felt like she should say something, but didn't quite know what. The old man's face appeared to be carved out of stone.

The moment passed and Satoshi laughed. Some of his frantic energy seemed to bleed out as his shoulders relaxed.

"Ahaha, sorry, I got carried away! It's not like we have any way to find out the truth. Could you spare me more time, miss Karma? I would have some questions left."

Karma shifted. Her legs had been starting to fall asleep and the renewed blood flow prickled gently. She cleared her throat. "Well, sure. But, can I go to the bathroom first?"

Satoshi burst into his boisterous laughter and waved her off.

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Karma's mother asked. There were worry lines between her eyebrows and early grey strands in her pitch black hair. She was one of those people who had adapted poorly to this new life, desperately clinging to family and whatever normality it offered.

Karma couldn't respond in kind. Sometimes she saw how the distance between them aged her mother, how she grew more grey and withered every time Karma called her by name.

"I will be fine. I'll see you later!" Karma said and took off to the forest of Sarana, waving her hand and never looking behind.

"I love you!" her mother shouted to her back.

"You, too!" she replied. That, at least, was true. The word 'mother?' was left hanging in the air, unsaid yet still present, heavy as lead.

When she was sure her mother could no longer see her through the trees, Karma ran. It wasn't a jog, or the kind of steady effort a marathon runner might put out. This speed was meant to burn off her power with no regard to long term efficiency, fierce and brief and _everything_ she had, right now.

She wasn't in a hurry, she ran because she _could_. Her feet tapped against the forest vegetation and the muscles of her thighs burned from the strain, a stab of pain in her lungs that fought for each breath. There was wind in her hair, also, and the elation of running by her own power.

She had always delighted in movement, the speed and the freedom of it. Illness had once robbed her of that, and dignity also.

Karma grinned and leaped, giddy joy rushing through her. Even the pain was welcome, because that also signified a healthy body.

But no one can run forever, especially a physically young child. Soon she had to slow down and catch her breath, trying to fan her burning cheeks now that the air current wasn't enough to cool her skin. The back of her robe was uncomfortably damp.

Karma leaned against a tree and smiled, the expression chasing away her usual layer of frost.

She took a few minutes to get her breathing under control and went again, walking now. She didn't want to be late, having looked forward to her ninja training eagerly from the very moment she'd understood enough.

And yet, everything had a cost. Whether she would take lives personally, whether she would not, Karma knew that she also would soon live only so long as others died. The clan always made sure that everyone acknowledged this - everyone, even the most unsuited ones, were to hunt at least once, so that they would never forget the price of living.

And, despite the morals of her old life burning at her conscience, Karma thought she just might grind her teeth and do the dirty work.

After all, no one moved quite like a shinobi. Only flying would offer more freedom.

* * *

Weaving around some excessively bushy trees, Karma found a familiar meadow. There were a lot of children around again, chattering to each other, the sound of many voices mixing and mingling until it was meaningless. She slid down and folded her legs to take her place in the half circle they had unconsciously formed.

Silence fell when a very tall and broad shouldered man entered the meadow. His nose was hooked and worry lines creased his forehead, his black hair cropped short and tidy. He was carrying a log of wood, too small for a stool. He set it down and kneeled in front of it.

"I am Seichu. Your teacher," he said, taking out a chisel and a hammer and starting to gently hack off tiny chips of wood. His voice was slow and deep, steady and firm like a mountain. It carried well over the hack of the hammer.

"Most of you will not go out for more than a hunt or two. It takes a certain mind set to kill people who have done nothing to you, without falling to madness. But we all must learn the basics. We are a ninja clan, however unconventional. Anything that uses chakra must be learned young while we do not yet have to worry about spending it. Chakra control in particular is vital, because our blood limit will make it difficult."

He turned the log, starting on a new surface.

"My lessons will be of chakra and our clan techniques. Mistress Paramita will guide you to find which of our ancestral martial arts suits you best. Master Kensho will instruct you with weapons."

He put down his tools and looked at his students. His eyes were pale as ice and lacked warmth, yet there was no cruelty or disregard to be found there. Rather, he merely seemed distant.

"I was a carpenter in my previous life. For the most part I lived an average life of no great triumphs or crushing defeats. There was tragedy that I will not speak of, and my greatest regret was my failure to save my sister. I will not repeat that mistake. Remember, our life can be dangerous, but I will always protect you."

Seichu smiled, then. It looked unfitting for his face, transforming and displacing features awkwardly, but it was still a relief to see a friendly expression.

"I will not train you with the use of our clan techniques quite yet, because at this age you are susceptible to chakra overload. Our clan also has a summoning contract, though only three active summoners are allowed. The crows can be patient, but they have their own lives and dislike being called too often. We have been allied for a long time, which is the reason they inhabit our lands in such numbers. There is a kinjutsu as well, but I will not tell you of that for many years. It can kill, if not always."

Seichu's face grew serious once more, the lines on his forehead dredging deeper.

"Now, we will start with the hand seals that are used to manipulate chakra and perform techniques. There are twelve basic ones and several special ones, restricted to our clan. Most commonly we use boar, bird and snake. Watch my example and try to copy, I will make rounds and instruct you. This is boar - "

* * *

Karma's best friend was a girl called Dakini. She had lived in the Tsardom of Russia, born fifteen years or so before the year 1600. Daughter of a poor farmer, she had lived her life helping out at harvest and milking their only cow, sickly and old as it was. Though never plentiful, life had been steady.

Then came famine.

Endless winters and summer snows with lakes covered in permanent ice, when animals died and crops failed to grow. Those of their village that survived eventually left for Moscow in search of help, including her family.

They had never made it. Dakini's mother died of plague not two weeks after and her father followed her soon, slain during an uprising. Dakini had wandered alone after that, feeling her stomach eating itself and knowing ever more clearly that her future was death. Every movement grew painful, her skin dried and cracked and something seemed to slowly grow in her throat so that swallowing was like forcing down sharp stones.

Dakini did not remember the exact details of her eventual death. That was most likely the greatest kindness fate had allowed her.

That was also what first brought Karma and Dakini together, the shared experience of a wasting death. Karma had gone to the hospital to seek a cause for her nausea, radiating pain and sudden loss of weight. She had died half a year later, cancer having eaten its way from her intestines to her spine and liver, rendering her paralysed from the waist.

Sometimes she still looked at her arms, now young and sleek and strong from taijutsu practise, and saw that fragile skeletal frame of before, bound by IV tubes that fed nutrients to her dying body.

Karma had always hidden her thorns, few and sharp as they were, in that lost life as well as this one. Still, there was only so much forced grace to be found in dealing with a body that was crippled by terminal illness, caging her to that sterile and squeaky hospital bed. Even now she always remembered the bitter days and endless silent tears; waiting in the room where there was little sound but the beeps of a heart monitor, alone, for the moment her body would finally expire. Listening to the _tick-tick-ticking_ of the clock and rain splattering on the window; waiting for the pain to end, fearing death and yearning for it.

The children of the clan sometimes talked about how they had died, made a competition of who had the best story. Karma remembered tales of assassinations, stray arrows and getting mauled by a bear. One memorable instance had involved an incident of accidental decapitation while constructing a pyramid, the story that had ended up as the official winner.

Illness and starvation, prolonged and humiliating deaths, those did not feature in these stories. Talking about such things would only have soured the mood, and there was no need to ruin the game for others. It was one way to cope, after all.

Karma remembered sitting on the sidelines and catching Dakini's eyes for the first time, both understanding each other in that single, fleeting moment.

In many ways they were like the sun and the moon. Dakini was assertive and reckless and expressed her emotions fiercely. Karma, on the other hand, was calm and perceptive, occasionally callous and cold.

Even their looks were a contrast. Dakini had moss green eyes and deep auburn hair that curled into furious knots. Her nose was pointy, her face thin and sharp. Karma's hair was a dark waterfall and eyes as black as a beetle's wing. She had thin lips, narrow eyes and dark, shapely eyebrows that could express effortless disapproval.

The two of them were certainly foils to each other. Yet, they had found a garden somewhere in the middle of Dakini's volcano and Karma's winter lake.

* * *

The summer festival of the year when Dakini and Karma were seven was very Japanese in theme, stalls of games and festival foods forming a maze in the central clearing of the village. Of course, the served food was the usual mishmash from all over the globe and history, but most people had donned their yukata and obi, content to recreate that memory of Japan to the best of their ability.

Karma and Dakini had a certain routine when it came to the festivals. There would be games first, played with other children, and then dancing around the plaza that was the centre of the village, dodging adults and admiring the clothes that might be from any century or place. After that, they would eat.

This time, they were stalking a man.

He had taken the last candied apple left in the stall. Such a crime was unforgivable in the eyes of Dakini, who had never tried one in either of her lives. Karma was mostly going along with the idiocy because she had a feeling Dakini would either provide a spectacular show or need someone to bail her out.

The man had a limp dull brown hair and an unremarkable face, the kind you couldn't quite recall afterwards. His eyes were droopy and he seemed constantly a second or two from yawning. He was still holding the candied apple, having apparently forgotten he had one.

(Karma silently thought that this was probably the reason Dakini hadn't been distracted by something else, the outrage that this fiend didn't even have the decency to enjoy his ill-gained goods.)

Before they could come up with an actual plan, the man stopped in his tracks and turned. Neither had time to react before he struck with the speed of a snake and had them both in the air, suspended by the scruff of their yukata.

"Hmmm, you two are actually pretty good at stalking, you know?"

He smiled, lopsided and sluggish, as though it was too much effort to look like he meant it. "I'm not a good target to practise on, though. Hmm. I may look like this, but I'm the military commander here."

Karma's eyes widened a fraction. Inside, she was slightly more rattled. The _military commander_? Her eyes slid to Dakini, whose face was predictably something of an artwork of exaggerated shock. The commander seemed to think so, too, there was something amused to the slant of his eyes.

Time to act quickly.

"I don't know what you mean, sir! We weren't tailing you. We were tailing the frog that walked on its hind legs. We thought it looked suspicious," Karma said, her face a perfect mask.

Dakini's eyes widened for a second, then she grinned. "Yeah, we did! It looked like it was going to assassinate you, sir. Very dangerous."

"Definitely a member of the notorious Toad Fraternity."

"You die without ever seeing them."

"They only leave a corpse behind."

"Robbed of all their possessions."

"Eyes still open and surprised expression - _now_!"

Karma slapped her hands against the eyes of their captor, whose eyes had shifted between them, highly amused by the display. Dakini grabbed the candied apple and both twisted around, pressing their feet against his chest and pulling at his fingers. His grip loosened and they fell, landing on their feet.

The gamble relied heavily on Karma's judgement of the man's nature, there was no way they could escape if he decided to pursue. But she wasn't mistaken. They heard his laughter trail behind as they weaved seamlessly through the crowd, the sound surprisingly lively for such a lackadaisical man.

They stopped behind a cart that served shaved ice, panting but victorious. Dakini cackled, deep in her throat. "Oh man, we make the best shit-talking duo ever!"

Karma smiled, the thrill of the run slowly fading. "He complimented us. I thought he seemed like a person who'd let us get away with it if we were audacious enough. Still, to think that is our military commander... Teaches you not to judge a book by its cover."

Dakini grinned and stretched, cracking her neck. "You said it, sister. But since we managed to ditch the zombie guy, wanna get some more food and climb the tree over there?"

Karma made a hum of agreement and followed her.

It wasn't an easy task to climb with so much food, but they managed with long practise. The lowest branches were still high enough to offer a good view of the festival. People were everywhere, their chatter lost in the lively music.

"I can almost feel the joy in the air, you know. There's nothing fake to it, but it's the joy of having survived a hurricane. Our happiness always has taste of despair," Karma said, feet kicking back and forward carelessly. She was eating shaved ice and strawberry syrup slowly coloured her lips and tongue with bright crimson.

Dakini hummed and drank down the rest of her orange juice in three big gulps.

"Well, it's unavoidable. I mean, the two of us died young and had pretty rough deaths, comparing. We were consumed by our own bodies, mine out of desperation, yours out of madness. And everyone else had their own tragedy. Seichu-sensei won't tell _anyone_ what happened to him. Puts things into perspective, that sort of thing," Dakini said, staring at her candied apple with an uncharacteristically serious face.

Then, the moment was gone and she bit into it, grinning ferociously.

"I like this new life, you know, despite everything. But I won't _ever _go hungry again. I _refuse_. So, in time, I'll join the hunters."

Karma blinked and a slow smile grew on her face. "I've been thinking I might try it out as well. I think I'm calm enough to handle the stress."

Dakini barked a laugh, sharp and fierce. "Understatement of the century! You're like a _rock_, Karma. I think you're more zen than that guy who used to be a monk... oh, hey, look, fireworks are about to start!"

Abandoning their spot, they scrambled and climbed to the roof of the library, Dakini all but dragging Karma by the wrist. It was the tallest building of the village, made of marble and copper and glass, white and green and magnificent in sunlight. The plans had been drawn centuries ago by someone who had lived in ancient Egypt and it was called, appropriately enough, 'the Library of Alexandria'. Several other children were already there, accepting them into the group without a word.

Slowly, with the first hesitant bursts of green and red, the chatter of the festival calmed down when everyone settled to watch. The crows were perching up in the trees and rooftops in black clusters while most people sat on benches or the patches of grass around the village.

The fireworks were bright and blazing, flickering away in moments. Some were pure white and fizzled away, some were golden streams that painted trees against the sky, some were red that changed and became bright, sickly green.

Karma leaned against the cool, polished marble of a gargoyle and felt what Dakini would no doubt have called 'zen'. They were all fleeting, beautiful sparks, but tonight they were alive and they would _still_ be alive tomorrow.

The air was cool and fresh and smelled of summer, hay and cut grass and the faint scent of white flowers that bloomed in the night. Morning would smell of fresh growth and rain, its light new and young and so, so bright.

There was, she thought, nothing more beautiful than the promise of a 'tomorrow'.

* * *

As puberty grew closer, the children felt the small trickle of a drain become a stream. It was the time of apprehension, waiting for the blood to awaken. Karma was one of the children who were especially warned to keep close to the forest. Her memories were clear, therefore her soul would be rejected that more forcefully.

She was ten years old when she asked about the summoning contract, while the rest of the class was sparring on the surface of the forest pond. Seichu looked at her, eyes deep and sad. "It would be unwise, as you will likely have a strong curse. Such is the price of power in our clan."

"...I have a lot of chakra though," Karma said, quiet and sullen. Very little disappointment showed on her face, but she could feel it all swirling inside, sour and burning. Her throat was stuck, words reluctant to leave. It was probably better that way, she felt the words and they were all childish and petulant. She would only regret them later.

Seichu smiled. It still looked awkward on his face; something about the strong, straight lines of it seemed to be built for melancholy. Karma thought she saw understanding in his eyes and shame made her feel much younger. But there was no reproach or disappointment, and when he spoke the words were considerate and kind.

"That is true. The final situation remains so be seen, but it is a rather rare occurrence to have large reserves and a powerful drain. I think you might actually be well suited for a certain unusual technique."

Karma perked up a little, almost against her will. _Apparently I want to be special, after all,_ she thought, amused and rueful.

Seichu smiled wider. "Most of our hunting involves chakra drain from some distance, which is generally fast enough to kill even shinobi before they can retaliate. However, sometimes our targets have unusually large reserves and aren't so easily immobilised."

He rubbed at his side, absently, as if remembering an old wound. "There is a certain jutsu that allows for mid-range attacks and high manoeuvrability. It is very aggressive and requires a lot of chakra to initiate. However, it also drains quickly and efficiently to replace the cost. In essence, a good match for you, and very useful for defending those of us who cannot readily move when synchronising."

Karma smiled, and though her face was placid still, her eyes shone bright. "Please, sensei. Teach me."

There was warmth in Seichu's eyes. "Very well. The technique is called 'Gentle Rivers of Death'. It works by forming vines of chakra, which are then used to pierce the opponent. Once in contact with normal chakra, they drain it rapidly in order to balance their own innate instability. You will not learn this quickly, because it requires advanced chakra manipulation. We will start by learning how to make chakra strings. Watch."

He extended his fingers and Karma watched how a tiny green string formed and stuck to a leaf on the ground. It was a part of their blood limit, a chakra of pale, sickly green, the light of the underworld. Karma had seen Seichu's eyes light up with it during his demonstrations. It was, admittedly, very creepy. Probably did not do their reputation any favours.

Karma's first try was rather less than stellar; the string didn't resemble a string so much as it did a misshapen strand of bubble gum, stuck on her finger and the ground.

She frowned at it. This was clearly going to take a while. At least Seichu was patient and not liable to laugh. And she liked the idea of the vines, snapping around her and extending her reach. She was reasonably good with weapons, but chakra was a part of her.

And yet... no matter how cool this technique was, Karma never _would_ get to sign the summoning scroll and she couldn't completely erase the disappointment. He hadn't forbidden her, not exactly. She could pursue it. But there had been something far more damning between the lines than an outright 'no'. "It would be unwise_"_, he had said. What he had meant was "_It would be too dangerous, please don't. I worry._"

She forcefully pried herself away from the sullen loop that her thoughts tried to run. It was useless to get stuck on this one thing.

(But she had so wanted to fly.)

* * *

The children learned, graduating from simple techniques like replacement to the ones special to the Samsara. Boar, bird, snake - the most important hand seals, always used in some combination when forming their clan techniques.

For the Samsara, they had little to do with their _usual _purposes in moulding a jutsu. Pig, bird and snake, the three poisons of Buddhism that maintain the cycle of existence. Pig for ignorance, bird for attachment and snake for aversion.

Fitting, then, that those were needed for their people to remain in the world of the living.

Other aspects of the ninja life were not neglected either and Karma found that her natural talent was in taijutsu. This new body moved far more effortlessly than her previous one, did exactly what she wanted, finely tuned and powerful. The right muscle type and some ability at chakra enhancement, she supposed.

Whatever it was, movement was like breathing. It suited her more than fine (even if ability at ninjutsu would have helped with that blasted technique).

Her current opponent was a tall boy with angular, heavy face. He had about a head to her height and was far more muscular. He was also nervous. For all he tried to look nonchalant, she saw the tenseness in his shoulders and the tight line of his lips.

Karma smiled at him. She had been told that this smile was particularly unnerving, the kind of perfectly placid friendliness that seemed to hide all sorts of nasty, sharp things beneath. She saw him gulp. _Good_.

Then, on some instinct, she felt the time was right. Karma lunged ahead, more to cross the distance than to feint, stepped to the side to avoid his arm and grabbed hold at elbow and shoulder. She twisted, gracefully, unbalancing him and sending him to the ground, face first. Before he could get up, she was on his back, taking his arm and bending it in an unnatural angle against the back of his head. The pressure was on his joint, not damaging but exceedingly painful. He wailed, mostly out of agony, but the embarrassment was there too.

Some men never unlearned that silly pride about getting defeated by girls, she supposed.

Seichu-sensei whistled, sharp and fast. The match had ended in five seconds flat, but then again this particular session wasn't about exhausting the opponent or causing physical damage. For the victims of her clan, mere contact was usually deadly enough.

Karma's peers cheered at her, while her opponent moved to the other side, sulking and rubbing at his arm.

It helped a lot, often, being able to hide her smug satisfaction - the others never thought she was mocking them or lording her skill at taijutsu over them. She had never been overly popular, but she wasn't an outcast either.

Karma accepted several high-fives, which had somehow managed to worm their way within the clan culture over the centuries, and went to sit back down next to Dakini, who had arrived while Karma had been busy beating her opponent without effort.

Uncharacteristically, Dakini was frowning and biting at her lip. Karma blinked.

"What's wrong?"

Dakini took a deep breath. "I... I asked Seichu-sensei about the summoning scroll yesterday. He said, well, said I could. Sign it. When I'm older, I mean, and if one of the three dies or retires."

Karma stilled, shock drawing her face blank. Against her will, sour envy tried to take root in her heart. Dakini would get what Karma had wanted the most, she would get to fly in the sky. Karma wouldn't.

But she didn't hate _Dakini_, not really. Far more she hated her own bitter thoughts, that a part of her wanted to hate her best friend.

Karma looked more alert than usual when surprised, she knew, and it wasn't going to help Dakini who _knew_ that Karma had wanted the scroll, still wanted it now. Karma could see it, the apprehension around her friend's eyes.

Karma suppressed a tired sigh. Jealousy was such a mess to deal with. She wasn't unfamiliar with it, had wallowed in it during those months in the hospital, envying the nurses and visitors and doctors for their health and their freedom. She had seen no reason, then, to try curb her bitterness. She had been alone.

But now she had a future, years of it, and an incentive to climb from that swamp of vitriol. Karma viciously shoved her jealousy down and smiled. "Well, you should."

Dakini seemed unsure, frown still marring her face. "You won't be jealous?"

"I will. But you're more important, so I'll get over it."

(Had it been anyone else, Karma might have lied. The truth was difficult enough to admit to herself.)

Dakini relaxed, anxiety melting from her limbs. "You're the best."

There was an easy understanding between them again, familiar and pleasant. Karma thought that in a few years, they could probably understand each other from a single glance.

It was a warm thought. Certainly worth more than a summoning scroll, even if the thought still stung.

* * *

Karma moved out at fourteen, no longer able to bear the silence where her mother's desperation made the air thick and hard to breathe. The guilt was there, of course, heavy and acidic, burning away somewhere near Karma's heart.

It was a difficult balance. She loved her mother, for all she didn't _see_ her as a mother. But she also clearly remembered another life where she had been an adult. She didn't have room for someone who tried to treat her like a child.

Her new house was next to the market place and Karma liked watching the hustle of the morning rush from her kitchen window, listening to the merchants advertising their products. It allowed her both solitude and contact with others.

The roof of the place had a gentle slope and was good for watching the stars at night, now that she had the freedom to do so. She could find peace in them, in the endless and vast night sky. The patterns of light were different from what she was used to, but no longer foreign.

The garden, though, was on the other side and faced the residential area, where she could just see the treetops of the forest behind the buildings. There was an old elder tree on the eastern corner and a small pond with koi fish in it. There was enough space for flowers and vegetables and enough grass to recline on. She didn't have any particular affinity for gardening, but it was still nice to have. Green grass made her toes happy and the tree provided shade to read in.

Karma was kneeling on the grass and weeding the flower beds when it happened, humming a song she could no longer fully remember, trying and failing to see if the rest of it would come to her if she just went through it over and over, when she felt something _tear _behind her stomach, just above where chakra was moulded. She choked on the tune, breath escaping her, and curled up in a fetal position, unable to stop the pain or keep the chakra in her system.

_There was a foul river behind the tear and it tried to suck her in, tried to lure her to -_

Karma found her breath and _screamed_, shrill and pained and entirely unlike her. Normally placid features were twisted in a grimace, cold sweat trickled on her skin. Distantly she could hear voices, coming closer and sounding alarmed. They didn't matter. _Pain_ did, the vicious burn of acid and fire, the icy current that swept her and drowned her. Every breath was hard fought and tore at her throat.

There were hands touching her, moving her, and wonderful, calm chakra poured in. But it wasn't enough, the tear ripped further, fluttering and gaping, until-

There was peace. Karma was floating, a piece of driftwood in a calm river. Sunlight was on her skin, a breeze through her hair. All the sensations that had been drowned out by agony returned to her.

Karma opened her eyes and uncurled, vary of pain. There was none. She saw trees, filtered sunlight and a glimpse of the blue sky of summer. The tree branches seemed to reach for her, waving back and forth in a strangely soothing motion.

The tear wasn't really a tear anymore. She felt it, certainly, but the edges of it were solid and stable, as if made of stone. The pain was a dull throb now, like a bruise, a petulant reminder rather than raw agony. Chakra drained, but not nearly as fast as before.

Karma sat up, aware enough to finally notice the people around her, feeling well enough to be a little sheepish for having screamed. She had seen other people in the state of a fresh curse before, but never quite this distressed. Not everyone needed the forest to stabilise; for the majority it was a _comfort_. Luxury.

There was Dakini, kneeling next to her, eyes wide and tear streaks across her cheeks. Seichu stood to her left, looking more relieved than Karma had ever seen him. The clan head was there also and he smiled at her, then knelt down and exhaled slowly.

The other people, most of whom she didn't know well, chattered and smiled at her, reassured now that she was stable, and left with waves and wishes of good health.

(Their concern felt like warmth, the people who were close to her, the people who probably knew her only by face.)

"You gave us quite the scare. That was certainly an intense curse," Satoshi said, corners of his eyes crinkled in a benign smile.

Karma felt the tips of her ears flush. She'd almost forgotten they had seen her crack. "Sorry. I thought it wouldn't be that bad. I'm pretty good at holding out, normally."

"That might actually be the issue here," said Seichu, rubbing at his jaw. "The curse could have built up and torn with greater force."

Karma blinked, feeling a little rueful. "Oh."

Then Dakini leaped to clasp her neck in a crushing hug and no more words were needed.

* * *

Ninjutsu lessons had fewer people, now. Many had left them to learn a civilian profession or focus on taijutsu and weaponry. Karma remained, and so did Dakini. Karma recognised all of the other children as well; most of them by name.

There was the boy who, as Karma vaguely remembered, had once shuddered next to her when they had been told of the legend of their clan. He had a pale, sickly face and perpetually bloodshot eyes. Karma often thought that he probably wouldn't last long, he was often whisked away for therapy but it never seemed to do him any favours. She wasn't sure why he was still taking lessons, maybe he wanted to put off the day he'd have to join a hunt.

There was also the girl who had once won that contest of the best death, Koen. She had adapted exceedingly well, having lived in ancient Egypt where death was a large part of the culture. She often lined her eyes black and stood out even in the very colourful crowd of Samsara, wearing Egyptian style jewellery she could never afford in her first life.

There were the twins, Anicca and Anatta, exceedingly unusual for having been siblings in their previous life as well. They had lived in old Mesopotamia. A wild-haired boy to Karma's left, Bardo, had been from the Roman Empire and, next to him, a tall, pretty girl called Mandala from the old Byzantine. They were, understandably, rather fascinated by each other. (Karma expected to catch them making out any time, now.)

Karma shook herself inwardly and concentrated on Seichu. Today was important. They were to learn the theory of the clan's kinjutsu.

Seichu nodded slowly, when the chatter died down and he had their full attention.

"As you well know, we are all intimately connected to death. Most of the time we seek to avoid an untimely one and rarely use chakra for any other ninjutsu than our clan techniques. However, there might be a time when that is not enough."

His face was serious and eyes colder than ever. "The souls that leave this world do not meet their final fate soon and they tend to linger on the edges of reality. Whether it is due to regrets or something else, we do not know. However, it is theoretically possible to summon a dead soul from afterlife via lingering chakra."

Karma's eyes widened. More than anyone else, this held meaning for her, in the form of Edo Tensei and the Outer Path of Rinnegan.

"There are secrets we must never allow to spread and sometimes we cannot risk the small window of opportunity our draining allows for an escape, should the target be powerful. If you find that an enemy is overwhelming or too dangerous to allow to escape, then we may summon the Shinigami."

The meadow was deathly silent now, even the rustling of the leaves was absent. No one seemed to even breathe.

"The Shinigami will take hold of your gate and reap the souls of your opponents. These souls will then be forced to enter the cycle of reincarnation and will, therefore, move on to the next life with no chance of returning."

Koen spoke up, timidly. "What happens to the user, then? If it's a kinjutsu to summon the Shinigami..."

Seichu nodded, acknowledging the point. "It does not mean instant death. When releasing the technique, the Shinigami is forced to let go of the gate and banished. However, the grip will cause irreversible damage and, as the gate deteriorates over time, the drain will get steadily worse. The cost of the technique is several years of your life in the best case. Furthermore, it drains chakra rapidly. Death is very much a possibility, and more likely the more enemies you have."

He sighed. There was pain in his eyes, in the tight lines of his forehead.

"My own teacher died that way. A clan had learned of our secret - however they did, we don't know, but it happened. He killed every single one of them, over a hundred people. We had quite the challenge in covering it all up so that no one would think to dig further. I hope we never come to such a situation again, but you must learn. We cannot forget."

* * *

The morning of Karma and Dakini's first hunt was clear and sunny. The first learning trips were always in small groups with an experienced instructor, a gentle way to let them see the reality of their life. To the relief of both, it had turned out to be Seichu-sensei.

(For the first time, they wore the uniform of their clan, tank tops and khaki pants, belts and harnesses. While practical enough and reasonably stylish, they were still a reminder of their new status as adults and members of the clan's military force. Seichu's presence was comforting.)

The pale-faced boy was also there, as nervous and jittery as always. Probably, he was with Karma and Dakini since they were both stable enough to take care of themselves, Karma thought. Their teacher might have his hands full with him.

After making sure they had all of their gear, Seichu took them to the forests that surrounded their clan compound. It was the first time they had really left their village, and Karma and Dakini couldn't help feeling a little giddy. Despite the reality of their goal, running through the forest was exhilarating.

Enhancing muscles didn't use that much chakra and was a standard method even for their clan. Karma jumped and twisted in the air, easily crossing a hundred feet in one leap. It was one of Karma's favourite parts about this new life, to be able to move like this. She smiled at Dakini who grinned back, a little wild, and sped up to make a series of zig zagging jumps that took leverage from tree trunks rather than their branches.

Several hours later, Seichu lifted his hand and pointed forward, stopping their little game. The forest had ended and there was a fresh-looking battlefield in the open land. Corpses and separated limbs, drying blood, broken weapons, plenty of carrion birds. It was like an ugly, festering wound in the landscape.

It looked like complete annihilation on both sides, Karma thought and was instantly glad the wind blew to their back so they couldn't smell it full force. She looked at Seichu for instruction, unsettled and eyebrows furrowed. It was different to hunt for animals, and while people often died in the clan, it was always _clean_ in a way this wasn't. Dakini seemed mostly unaffected and was only frowning a little, having witnessed death _en masse _before. The pale-faced boy whimpered pitifully.

Seichu made hand seal and bit his thumb. In a puff of smoke, a crow appeared. It ruffled its feathers in irritation.

"What is it? I was eating! I know you people can be rude, but you don't just interrupt someone's breakfast! I don't find such a fine cow carcass every day!"

Seichu lifted both hands in a placating gesture. "Please, Kuroi. Could you fly and tell me what you see?"

Kuroi harrumphed, sounding very much like a put out old man, but did take off in a blur of feathers. Seichu turned to his students. "Kuroi is a spy. No matter how well you hide, his eyes will see everything. I have known him to spot a person using an invisibility technique by a minute bend of light reflection that no human without doujutsu could hope to see."

The wait couldn't have been more than five minutes, but seemed much longer and the pale-faced boy seemed to be getting slowly greener. Karma wondered if it would be overly awkward to ask for his name now and decided to wait until they were not in the vicinity of a brutal battlefield.

Then, Kuroi returned. "Well, looks like hardly anyone left _that_ battle. Can't see any survivors, but it must have ended just a few hours ago. Lots of birds out there. I kinda want to go myself."

How he managed to leer like that with just a beak to work with, Karma would never know.

"But you might be interested to know that there's a small group of people just to the east of here. Shinobi, probably chuunin level, four in total. Possibly here to scout the scene or loot."

Seichu hummed. "Well, that is good news. I had hoped for some survivors from the battle, they would have been injured, exhausted and shaken. Still, the numbers are good."

Karma was a little disturbed by the callousness of the statement, but shook it off firmly. It was that kind of life. She had to accept it.

Seichu patiently dragged more details from Kuroi, about the environment, about the targets. Kuroi seemed remarkably disinterested in topics that weren't about corpses, but eventually elaborated, grudgingly.

The targets wore a clan symbol, but it was unknown to Seichu. A slightly unusual occurrence, as the Samsara always took notice of such things, simply so that they would know not to target the same people twice in a row. It probably meant that this clan was new, very small or from far away. The implications would have to be considered, Seichu explained, but in this instance it only meant that they would have to investigate the corpses afterwards.

Their targets were currently camping in a small notch, not even five hundred feet within the forest. It wasn't ideal, they couldn't surround them or back them in a corner, but it would do.

Seichu dismissed Kuroi and turned back to his students.

"Well then. Come along, children. Time for you to learn how to kill."

* * *

Author's Notes: Most of the names for my characters come from Buddhist concepts and such, because they take a lot of influence from that culture due to their founding father. Certainly not because I'm lazy. And not everyone, mind, Satoshi is a purely japanese name. I see him as someone who was african once, so it must have been odd for him to be born with blond hair and fairly light skin. However, one of his new parents had been japanese and named him accordingly. It happens sometimes, and no one thinks ill of it.

Satoshi's theory is just that. I make no comment on if there was any truth to it. However, the statistics he gave are correct.

Dakini died in the russian famine of 1601–1603, believed to be the worst in history. Something like two million people died, but that was from Wikipedia, so don't hold me onto it.

The third chapter will possibly be up in a week or two, depending on whether I make any progress in chapter five.


	3. A certain incident

**A certain incident**

* * *

Karma wished they didn't have to cross the battlefield, as she couldn't avoid seeing the mangled corpses in passing. Most of them wore rudimentary armour, made of copper or some pale metal. Weapons were scattered all over, some covered in blood, some stuck in dead flesh, some broken beyond repair. She could see the expressions on the faces of the dead, also. Some were calm, some twisted in a grimace. Some merely looked resigned.

Karma found herself hoping Hashirama would be born soon.

Another distraction was the smell. She could block chakra from entering her nose, but the stench of blood and decay was still there and made her slightly nauseous. She glanced at the others from the corner of her eye. Dakini had a pinched look on her face, as if she had bitten on lemon, but appeared to be holding up. The pale-faced boy was visibly green. Karma hoped he wouldn't hurl, she wasn't sure she could hold up if she had to smell vomit on top of everything else.

The forest edge couldn't come soon enough. Karma took a deep breath. The foul stench lingered in the air, but was bearable now.

Seichu turned to look at them. He showed no sign of discomfort.

"How are your chakra batteries?"

Karma reached back to inspect the device strapped to her waist. Theirs were of standard make and always worn when one of their clan ventured outside - those who went to trade or accomplish other secret tasks were given a more compact model, harder to make.

It was shaped like a box and made of brass, looking very much like it belonged to some sort of steampunk setting. As device meant to store the chakra they gathered, it had a glass gauge to measure chakra levels. There were two switches on the top, one for turning it on or off and one for flipping between storage and release. There were more knobs and holes in the back that she didn't know the details of, meant for maintenance and draining once back in the village. A few glass tubes ran on the surface, which would glow green once chakra entered the system.

There was nothing wrong with Karma's device and she nodded at Seichu, mirrored by Dakini and the pale-faced boy.

"Good. Now, we will be approaching the target from east. That way, we can get them in a position where they are forced to fight us. We are not outnumbered, but you are inexperienced, so remember to stay close to me. How are your chakra vines, Karma?"

"I can make two reliably. Beyond that, they start to get out of control," Karma replied. The clan's natural affiliation always caused problems with chakra control, but she hadn't been very good even before her curse.

Seichu nodded. "Dakini, you can afford to use ninjutsu. However, refrain from that unless absolutely necessary. Rigpa, keep your tanto at hand. We move."

The rest of the trip was silent. Karma's heart beat quickly, like a bird, and her hands felt cold and numb in anticipation of violence. This, more than anything, was a test on her will to live.

The walls of the notch were not tall, but stood steep and covered in lush vegetation. Their targets seemed to be camping, several men with slight shoulder armour and thick clothes.

However...

Something about the scene, their positions, was not right. She couldn't pinpoint anything specific, but the warning bells were too loud to ignore.

And, thinking of it, who _camped_ nearby a battlefield?

But they had to investigate the matter. The village was only hours away, too close for letting possible threats go. Karma glanced at Seichu, who caught her eye and nodded, face grim. "Karma. You are the second in command here."

Karma felt her heart try to jump to her throat and forced it back down. She glanced at Dakini, who looked back, eyes large.

_Something is up._

_Be careful._

Seichu made the signal and they jumped in with blurring speed. The men leaped up and took their stances. There was no alarm to their movement, and again Karma felt the edge of dread.

One of them, a man with plaited hair and sunken yellow eyes, grinned. "Well then, look at this. It worked after all! We caught the chakra suckers, guys!"

Karma froze. At the man's words, many, many more people had emerged from all over them. And how had they not _spotted_ them? How had _Kuroi_ not spotted them? Karma could count at least fifty, probably more.

It was a trap, apparently designed for her clan, and the situation was no longer in control. They were surrounded and outnumbered. Badly.

Terror washed through her like cold water in her veins, chasing away confusion, the world suddenly clear and sharp as a knife and intensely colourful. She saw everything, the yellow, sunken eyes of their ambushers, the tattered look to their clothes and armour, the carefully hidden signs of tension on their faces and stances.

But she wasn't sure what to _do_ with the clarity. They were still at a bad disadvantage.

She looked at Seichu, saw his stern determination and lack of panic. That grounded her, dulled the edge of terror, and the world slowed down and muted to dim shades again. The odd icy clarity was lost, as quickly as it had appeared.

"What is your purpose?"

Seichu's voice was grim but steady. At his side, he made a little sign, crossing his fingers. Karma flipped on her chakra battery, feeling rather than hearing the hum as it started to skim minute amounts of her chakra.

The man with plaited hair grinned wider. It made him look deranged, twisting his face and never reaching his eyes.

"We were hired to capture one of you guys. Customers wanted a young one, preferably a girl. Your blood limit is pretty valuable, you know?" he leered at Karma and Dakini. "You girls are worth a fortune!"

Both girls drew closer to Seichu's tall frame, shivering; there really was only one way to interpret the words. Karma could almost feel their teacher's anger, it radiated off of him in waves. It was oddly comforting, when not directed at them.

"You know it is suicidal to attack our clan," Seichu said. His voice was cold, in contrast to his burning fury. "You will be hunted down and destroyed. If you could plan this trap, you have to know as much."

The man shrugged, but his grin was strained now. "Times have been hard, we had to take the risk. Our clients have the dough for it. And hey, you could come quietly. We don't want to harm the goods."

Seichu drew to his full height, eyes colder than the heart of winter. "Unacceptable."

Then he turned his head to look at Karma. She drew a sharp breath, understanding immediately in one horrified second. There was no way for them to win against such numbers. At least, not without drastic methods. _You are in charge._

No.

No, _please._

Seichu's hands moved in hand seals, deliberate and steady, and ended in a deviant position she had seen only once: palms facing him, wrists crossed and fingers splayed. The seal of the peacock.

"God of Death. I call you forth."

Instantly, she could feel it, the cold, otherworldly presence. The little hairs in the back of her neck stood up, the skin of her arms in goosebumps. The entity emerged from Seichu's back, tendrils of hair left embedded in his flesh. It had a gaunt face, ragged white hair and horns. Held between sharp teeth was a rusty tanto.

The Shinigami, spectral and horrifying.

But that was not the end of it. Tendrils of chakra emerged from Seichu's body and pierced the air. Cracks seemed to form in empty space, as if it was breaking glass.

Then, Karma heard it. Something huge was turning, heavy and cumbersome, somewhere both far away and right there. Steadily, slowly, unstoppable and implacable. _The sound of the universe_, she thought with incredulous awe. _The wheel of Samsara_.

Their enemies tensed and drew their weapons. Before they could move, the Shinigami lunged, the thread of tension snapped and the scene erupted into chaos. She saw the ghostlike form grab hold of a man and shove its tanto through his torso as if the flesh offered no resistance, then something white and ethereal emerged from his back and disappeared in the vastness of the sky, drawn by the wheel. Their enemies scattered, trying in vain to avoid the skeletal entity. Some of them ran towards Karma's group instead, obviously intending to kill Seichu before he could do the same to them.

And Karma was in charge. She forced it all down, the anxiety, the insecurity. She had no idea how to reach that icy calm, so she welcomed anger instead, fed it and drew it out. Unhealthy for long term, most likely, but necessary at the moment. She had never killed before.

"Dakini, Rigpa! Defend sensei! Drain as much chakra as you can!"

Dakini hadn't needed the prompt, she had taken a stance on Seichu's other side already. Rigpa seemed to break out of a trance, visibly shuddering, and moved to the empty spot. His tanto was shaking but his grip was tight, knuckles white with the strain. The blade was covered in a thin sheen of green chakra.

Karma concentrated and drew out her own chakra, quickly making the needed seals. At her will, the vines she had summoned whipped forward at the speed of a snake, piercing through the man closest to her.

By chance, it was the one with pleated hair. He stopped in his tracks at the impact, screeching and trying in vain to claw at the vines. The chakra in him drained, so quickly it truly felt as though she was taking something physical instead of life energy. Some of his horror was imprinted in the chakra like a distant echo, and it was sweet like the strawberries in the summer.

Karma smiled unkindly. There was nausea, too, somewhere in the back of her mind, and her hands shook slightly. But this had been the man who had outright said he would have _sold_ her. More than anything, Karma feared a cage. And fear she could also use, that great motivator of mankind.

Somewhere behind her Karma hear Dakini's voice, furious and piercing. "_Do svidaniya!_"

Karma smiled wider, this time with real affection. Dakini's rage was true, and while Karma was no sensor her friend's presence and chakra felt much like having an erupting volcano at her back. However, when it came to ability, Dakini was much more like a storm. From the corner of her eye, Karma could see Dakini's lightning, crackling with light that should probably have been white but took a sickly green hue in her hands. A charred corpse flew past Karma and toppled a group of three men in distance.

There was clearly no reason to worry about Dakini.

Rigpa, now, he _was_ a source of concern. But from what Karma could see, he appeared to be holding on as well, strikes stiff but quick. There wasn't quite enough killing intent, she thought, but it would be good enough for Rigpa to not get caught.

Of course, it is never a good idea to look away in a fight. Momentarily distracted by her worry, a kunai managed to get past her vines and sink into her calf. Karma stumbled, hissed and yanked the blade out. Pain stung, but in a distant, unimportant way, as if it was nothing more than a bug bite. In seconds her flesh regenerated, stitched together by green chakra.

The distraction almost cost her more than a few drops of blood. By less than an inch Karma managed to dodge a strike that would have hit her temple, dropping down and lashing upwards.

Karma rolled to the side before the corpse could drop on her and leaped on her feet from a backflip. Using the leftover momentum, Karma changed direction and bounced forward, rolling between the legs of the next enemy. Her vines formed a brief cage to protect her from errant projectiles, then struck him in the back.

Right. She had to take care of herself first. She wasn't sensei.

Seemingly uncaring of the fight around him, Seichu remained hunched forward, half kneeling and hands held in a semblance of a prayer. The ghastly form of the Shinigami was a constant presence at the edge of her vision, swinging its blade and extracting souls, but it no longer seemed frightening. It wasn't a threat to _her_.

In distance, the wheel turned and turned.

* * *

Karma wasn't sure how long the battle lasted, but it couldn't have been more than minutes. The end of it was sudden and silence fell like an iron curtain. Karma drew up from her grouching stance, taking in her surroundings and dropping the body her chakra had been holding up like a particularly morbid ragdoll. Her battery shone with green light and ticked, slowly. It was full.

Karma groaned and rubbed at her forehead which had bruised somewhere along the line. Despite the fact that it had to have healed, she still felt a throb of phantom pain. She was filthy and sweaty and oddly empty, for all her chakra system was filled. She had used up all of her anger and her fear in the fight and was left with nothing.

Corpses littered the ground. Most of them had no sign of damage, but several were badly charred and some had incisions caked with cooling blood. Dakini ran towards Karma, unharmed but with lacerations in her clothes, while Rigpa was huddled on the ground, breathing fast and shallow and looking very much like he might die from sheer horror. He still held the tanto in a death grip. A gentle wind blew past, ruffling leaves in the canopy. Karma's little team and the hovering form of the Shinigami were the only moving figures in a sea of silence.

Karma and Dakini turned to look at Seichu, who was breathing in wheezing gasps. He grimaced and the hair of the Shinigami released its grip, rather reluctantly. The entity disappeared, as if dissolving in the air.

Karma rushed to her teacher's side. Seichu was gasping for breath and leaning against his knee, trails of sweat dripping down his skin. She touched his shoulder and _the river almost pulled her under, pulled at her with icy fingers, tried to make her float away and rest for all eternity..._

She drew in a sharp breath and pulled away. She had lost a large portion of her chakra in a few, brief seconds. Something was very wrong here. Clan blood usually prevented them from draining each other by accident.

Seichu turned to look at her. She saw green light flickering on and off, on and off in his eyes. He managed an apologetic look. "Sorry. Looks like this is it for me. Too many enemies, my gate is done for."

He grimaced in pain and slumped on the ground, unconscious.

The world seemed to fall away from under Karma's feet. She had known this could happen, should have expected it, had refused to acknowledge it.

But she was in charge, she couldn't fall apart. What was the right path? Karma drew a breath, once more forced down the creeping dread and decided, quickly, before she could second-guess.

"Dakini! Rigpa! We need to get sensei back to the village right away! Bring your batteries, he needs the chakra!" she ordered, reaching for the straps that secured her own share of stolen life.

Dakini was already stripping hers off, biting her lip, eyes large and worried. "Karma, he's not... You _know_ he can't..." she said quietly.

Karma grimaced. "I know. But we _need_ to get him to the village. He might have words to say before leaving, and... so that he can become a tree in the forest."

Dakini nodded, giving her a grim smile. Seichu offered no resistance when they strapped all three chakra batteries onto him, each switched from draining chakra to releasing it. They wouldn't last for too long, Karma knew, but would hopefully allow them to carry Seichu without losing too much of their _own_ chakra.

Seichu was taller and bulkier than any of them, so the harnesses dug into her palms painfully and Rigpa was at times more of a hindrance than help, whimpering and stumbling on his feet.

Yet, he never complained and tried his best to keep up, so Karma tried to think kindly and not snap out anything callous and unfriendly. It wasn't fair to expect him to deal well just because Karma and Dakini could.

Time rushed by. Karma felt as though they were trying to race through a bog, the forest endless and full of low branches and sticking roots intent on tripping them. She couldn't help but keep glancing at the chakra meters, slowly ticking down, measuring Seichu's borrowed time. Was there enough? Enough to get him to the sacred forest, where he would stabilise, long enough to say what he had to? She tried not to look at Seichu's pale, clammy face.

Her muscles strained, even with chakra, and her breath came in short, agonised bursts. _Please, please, we have to make it!_

While it felt like an eternity of fear and anxiousness, it must have been only an hour or two later when Rigpa finally stumbled and fell over, unconscious. Dakini and Karma skidded to a stop and exchanged a horrified glance. They couldn't leave him behind, they were still too far from their village.

Which meant that one of them would have to carry Seichu alone.

"I have more chakra," Karma said. _I know it has to be you, but I don't want to put you at risk, _was what she didn't say.

"I am more stable," Dakini replied, resigned and determined. _I know. I'll do it anyway_.

Karma bit her lip, tasted blood and forced herself to nod.

She helped Seichu on Dakini's small shoulders. His feet would drag on ground, but there was no way around it. The chakra meters were falling dangerously low, but there was still enough. They could make it, _would_ make it. Karma had to hold on to that thought.

She was in charge, she couldn't fail them.

Karma hoisted Rigpa over her shoulders. He had probably fainted due to stress more than anything else, she thought, since his reserves were nearly full. A trace of his chakra seeped into Karma's coils and it felt like a constant cold shiver trickling down her back, setting her nerves even more on edge.

She ground her teeth, angry at him for having such distracting chakra, knowing it was a mean and useless thought. It _wasn't_ his fault. She positioned him so that he touched as little of her bare skin as possible and moved on.

The trees seemed endless, the rocks and grass all looked the same. Karma knew they had to be making progress, but it was difficult to believe when some irrational part insisted they must be walking in circles and going nowhere. The position of the sun told otherwise, but ancient instincts will not always bow to evidence.

* * *

Afternoon had arrived by the time they saw the stone gargoyles, and stopped in their tracks. They had finally, _finally_ reached the perimeter of Samsara territory, the silent sentinels that had been long ago inscribed with security seals that prevented access from anyone not of their blood or specifically keyed in. The village was only half an hour away, at full speed.

Sweet relief almost made her tumble, her knees suddenly wobbly and unreliable.

Karma turned to look at Dakini, who also looked like the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders - ironically enough, as she was still carrying Seichu who positively dwarfed her. Karma let Rigpa down, only slightly more gently than if he had been a sack of potatoes.

"Can you keep carrying him for a few more minutes? I'd help, but it's faster if I run for the village..."

Dakini grinned ferociously, revealing her teeth. "No, you run. I can keep going."

Karma nodded. She had hoped to hear otherwise, but would respect Dakini's pride now that it wasn't dangerous.

"If the batteries run out, don't try be a hero. Drop him. He'll drain you too fast."

Dakini rolled her eyes, but did not complain. "Will do, _kapitan_."

Karma almost smiled, but took off before more words could be said. Dakini never failed to lift her mood, even in this kind of grim situation.

Without her, Karma's lonely run seemed longer and more difficult than the previous struggle, even without the added burden of Rigpa. Images tried to worm their way into her mind. Dakini with her chakra drained and transforming into a tree, screaming... Rigpa stolen away by someone they hadn't killed, clever enough to follow them unseen and somehow able to work around the sentinels...

She bit her lip, trying not to abuse the flesh further. Regeneration only worked when actively using their blood limit and she had been battered enough today. There were lacerations in _her_ clothes, too.

And then, finally, she heard the background chatter that was so familiar to her. Karma took a deep breath and screamed. "_Help!_ We need _help! _Seichu-sensei...!"

And her kin rushed towards her, familiar and safe, surrounding her and asking questions with worried faces. A man pushed his way through the crowd and took hold of her shoulders. "What happened?"

She almost didn't recognise him, the alert, alarmed expression chasing away the dead fish impression their military commander usually wore. Karma swallowed.

"We were ambushed, lots of people, they, they wanted to kidnap us. Seichu-sensei used the kinjutsu, but his gate is... We brought him back, but he's in bad shape. They're maybe ten minutes to... the southwest from here, Dakini's carrying him. I had to drop Rigpa and get help...!" Karma said in a rush.

Trying to concentrate was like trudging in syrup, she wasn't sure of the details. What was the distance? How long?

To her relief, the military commander merely nodded, face grim, and took charge.

"You, you and you," he pointed at three men in the crowd. "You will follow me and retrieve the rest of her team. Hm. You, run to the chakra storage and retrieve emergency cells. You go fetch the medics and you find the clan head. He'll know where Seichu's close family is. We meet in the meadow of Sarana."

He turned to Karma again and grabbed her shoulder. "You did well. Hm. I'll have someone take you to the forest. In fact, you do it," he said and pointed somewhere behind Karma's shoulder.

"We leave. Get to it!"

He and three other men leaped off in a blur of speed. The crowd hustled into action to carry out orders. Karma found herself alone and the sound of vague chattering and shouts drifted by, the actual words slurred into each other and meaningless.

A man with navy blue hair took hold of Karma's hand and pulled her along gently. She was happy to let him. Exhaustion had crept up now that adrenaline had drained, leaving her with aching feet and a tired mind.

The detachment made their trip to the forest long and lonely. The man didn't try to talk to her and she was glad, she wouldn't have known what to say to him. Stress and self-doubts seemed to be catching up to her, much like a persistent creditor and about as welcome.

(_Did you think you could outrun us? Here we are! Shall we think about how this could be your fault?_)

The day's events swirled and twisted in her mind like poisonous sludge. _Had_ she made the right call? Should she have left Seichu there, left it up to someone else to find and bring back the tree?

_The bloody battlefield and the feast for carrion birds_

_The Shinigami, sweeping death that left victims looking as though they were asleep_

_The leer of the man who wanted to steal them from their clan_

_Seichu's pained gasps and slowly ticking chakra meters_

_The feeling of draining a human being of his life for the first time, then again and again_

Once they reached that familiar meadow she slumped on the ground, not caring one whit for shinobi grace. The man sat down next to her and rubbed her shoulder, hesitantly. His chakra trickled in, feeling like a cool forest stream.

Slowly, in the relenting whirlpool of her thoughts and the man's calming chakra, Karma fell in a shallow trance. There was nothing but trees and the wind, unassuming company and his warm arm across her shoulders. The day had been too long, and she was tired.

Sometime later, he shook her gently and she jolted back into awareness. The meadow was filled with people now. Some looked like they were fulfilling urgent orders; some seemed to stand around just in case they were needed.

She could see Seichu in the other side, awake now and hooked up in a machine with green glowing tubes. He was talking to Satoshi and the military commander, who both looked grim, shoulders stiff and eyebrows furrowed. Medics were hustling around them. A lovely, willowy woman was kneeling next to Seichu, weeping in a handkerchief.

Shame filled Karma, shame she shouldn't feel but did. It _wasn't_ her fault, she tried to remind herself, but guilt was acidic and obstinate and wouldn't leave.

(Would Seichu have been able to survive if she had been stronger? Better? Smarter? If she had killed more people, would it have stressed him less, enough to let him live?)

Karma looked down, fighting down the treacherous tears that threatened to burn her eyes for the first time in years. It shouldn't have hurt this much, for death came for them all, but Karma hadn't thought she'd lose her teacher for a long time yet.

Seichu had made numerous wooden items over the years, seemingly just to occupy his hands when he spoke, later gifted away to his students. Karma had one back home, a stool made into the shape of a leaf. She'd never get to see him finish the newest project; it would eternally remain rough and formless. He'd never answer her questions with calm patience, or lecture his students about this or that.

"Well, this is a fine mess!"

The voice was indignant and powerful, gruff and throaty. There were still remains of an old accent to it, Spanish or Italian. Karma looked up and saw a large, handsome woman in bright crimson robes. She had dark red lipstick, heavy copper earrings and her black hair was in a sleek, stylish bun. Karma felt a sudden need to straighten her back and shout 'yes, ma'am'.

Karma recognised her, of course, although they had never spoken. Madam Sarvasti was that kind of woman.

She glanced down at Karma and smiled, looking like a kindly aunt.

"Don't you worry, dearie, I'll take care of you," she said and patted her cheek, then rose to her full, impressive height. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. Her gaze was as piercing as a drill. "What are you all doing, gawking uselessly? These girls have had it rough. You there, find the other one, short fizzy hair she had, and bring her here. I'm sure the poor dears need each other right now."

She barked more orders that Karma couldn't pay attention to, because the man with navy blue hair (looking rather henpecked under the matron's attention) was now bringing Dakini over to her.

Dakini was okay. She was _okay_. She looked a little shaken and a little wide-eyed, but was not trembling in chakra exhaustion or injured. She stumbled to sit down next to Karma and, without a word, they curled up together. Dakini's chakra grounded her, the familiar, faint feeling of smouldering embers that warmed but didn't burn. And finally, finally Karma was able to round up her errant emotions and settle herself. A sense of calm and balance returned.

Her head cleared, Karma coughed, nervously. "Uh, Madam? What about Rigpa? He was unconscious and..."

Madam Sarvasti smiled kindly. It made an odd contrast to the people around her, their backs stiff as wooden planks and faces carefully alert so as to not seem like they were idling about. Karma entertained a brief image of Madam Sarvasti as their military leader or clan head, and thought that she'd certainly command enough respect for it.

"I saw to it already, dearie, that poor boy is in the medical bay and recovering just fine."

Karma nodded, relief filling her now that her final concern had been answered, and leaned back into Dakini. Madam Sarvasti left, but Karma could still hear her commanding voice from somewhere. That, too, was comforting.

A gentle cough caught her attention. It was the willowy woman. She smiled sadly, no longer weeping but eyes still red and puffy.

"I wanted to thank you for bringing him back," she said. "Seichu and I were engaged. I'm glad I got to see him one last time."

Karma blinked in surprise. Before she could find her words, the lady shook her head gently. "I don't blame you, he made his choices. Come, he wants to see you."

Karma and Dakini followed her through the thinning crowd. There was only one medic left tending to Seichu now, but Satoshi was still there, talking with the military commander and keeping a polite distance.

Seichu smiled, as awkwardly as ever. He looked sad, eyes drooping, but also as if a considerable weight had been taken off his shoulders, a weight he had carried as long as they had known him.

"I can never thank you enough. You have exceeded my expectations. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been, to fight in that situation and then return with me as a burden. I am proud to call you my students," he said in his gravelly voice. "You have both done so well."

They had never been especially close to him. Both girls had trusted him and looked up to him, but he had kept his personal and professional lives separate. Right now, it didn't seem to matter. Karma and Dakini crawled in his lap and held on.

They were forced to let go when the machine started to beep, alarmed and shrill. Seichu smiled sadly. "Well, looks like it's time for me to go. This was a fine life."

His fiancée stepped forward and kissed him. They shared a final look, the kind that says more than words ever could, and she stepped away with a fragile smile. Satoshi took her place and gripped Seichu's hand. "We will not say in grief that you are no more. We will live in gratefulness that you were. Thank you. We wish you the best of luck in your next life."

Seichu nodded and was carefully unhooked from the machine while everyone took several steps back. Karma watched as life escaped his eyes, flickering green for the last time, and death brought a change.

Normally, the Samsara were only able to use and absorb the chakra of humans. It was only at the brink of chakra exhaustion and death when natural chakra was sucked in from the air. In that story Karma had read long ago, such a thing had made one turn into stone. For whatever reason, such was not the case for her clan.

Rapidly, in front of their eyes, Seichu's skin grew into wood; sturdy roots that burrowed underground, branches that reached for the sky and fresh leaves that burst out like green fireworks. The tree grew and grew, taller than any of the others, and amongst the leaves white flowers bloomed.

The forest rustled around them, wind creating waves in the grass, leaves filtering golden sunlight. It was a late afternoon, the sky clear and blue. A bird landed on the lowest branch of the new tree and sung a joyous trill.

Only rags remained of Seichu's military uniform, clinging onto the tree and fluttering in the wind.

* * *

The situation escalated quickly after that. Karma and Dakini saw little of the details, being as they were a new addition to the military force, but there was unmistakeable tension in the air, and their clan was much like all ninja in that the entire village gossiped like a sewing circle. When the team that had been sent to investigate the corpses of the enemy returned, with some news and some speculation, everyone heard about it in record time.

They were called 'Sonzaina'. According to the Samsara records, they apparently had a secret technique or a blood limit that had to do with hiding one's entire presence, which would certainly explain how so many had escaped even the eyes of Kuroi. Having never been very powerful or influential, they had declined further in recent years, caught in the crossfire of the war. Whoever their mysterious employers were and what _their _aim was, no one had been able to figure out.

Still, Karma thought, it was useless to speculate right now. They were at war. Technically. Annihilating an entire group of people was, after all, rather considered an act of gruesome hostility.

Karma inspected the Sonzaina compound through her small spyglass. The people she saw had familiar features, pale yellow and sunken eyes, but this time there were also civilians and children. Karma very carefully didn't think about it.

They were standing in a vast, grassy plain, dozens of her kinsmen, carefully hidden amongst the rocky formations. The Sonzaina village was well concealed in a curious notch, about half a mile away and just within the edge of the forest, surrounded by large, smooth boulders that seemed one sneeze away from toppling on the buildings. As a location of a clan compound it was well chosen, easily defendable and offering cover from enemy that would have to approach on open land.

It wouldn't help them against her kin.

Satoshi was there as well, technically in the lead but the orders were given by the military commander. It was a compromise, as the situation fell right out of usual protocol. Something of this scale would require Satoshi's personal attention, but he was more of a politician than a strategist.

The military commander cleared his throat and, at Satoshi's nod, spoke to them in a authoritarian tone. "Group A will go east. Group B will head west. Group C will stay and wait for the signal. Group D, code cherry blossom, scatter. Hm, go!"

Karma shifted in place. She was in group C, while Dakini headed out with the first one. She supposed the more inexperienced people had to be split off in this kind of operation, but it still unsettled her to see her friend's curls disappear in the distance. Before they were out of sight, Karma saw Dakini look back and grimace, face apologetic. She didn't feel better for it.

At least her group was led by Satoshi. She inched closer to him and he turned to her, smiling weakly. It didn't look very convincing.

"Waiting can be difficult, but this situation is especially harsh," he lamented. "And this is not a good thing we are doing. Necessary, because we need to make an example, but not good. I hope Hashirama is born soon. Maybe there will be less of these things once Konoha is born."

Karma nodded slowly, almost startled by the sudden _déjà vu_. It hadn't been long since she had thought the same.

Satoshi's radio crackled to life. "Group A, in position. Code, nevermore." Mere seconds later, group B also confirmed their position. Satoshi sighed and reached for his transmitter. Karma flipped on her chakra battery, Satoshi gave the signal. It was time.

Karma took her place in the row and made the hand seals, called for her blood and felt it answer. Next to her, she could feel others do the same. She reached for them and accepted their chakra, linking and bonding. The web grew, first a trickle and then all at once, like an avalanche gaining momentum. She lifted her arms, palms facing forward.

Her hair fluttered and billowed with the eerie green glow of their power and she smiled, _had_ to smile, at the feeling of her kin and their chakra, joined with hers, familiar and supportive. _Synergy_, she thought. Far stronger together than the sum of their parts.

Faintly, she could now also feel the other two groups from miles away, positioned in a perfect triangle around their enemy. It had something to do with optimising the resonance, apparently.

She heard the first distant scream slightly before she felt the first wisp of foreign chakra. Her brief joy shattered and she was glad she was not prone to panicking. Synchronisation was a delicate act of balance.

Karma bit her lip and held on, eyes narrowed, and ignored the lingering remains of the part that had once been ingrained as 'thou shalt not kill'. A freezing clarity settled within her, once again. With that, she truly felt chakra, too, as it surged in. Life and power, both form and energy.

It was over surprisingly fast, in mere minutes chakra streams slowed to small trickles and dried up. Karma released the web slowly, in sync with the others, then carefully severed the connection and was entirely her own again.

She felt curiously empty, for more reasons than one, for all she had never had more chakra in her coils. There was a sour taste in the back of her throat and none of her kin was crowing at victory. Discounting her brief reconnaissance earlier, they hadn't even _seen_ the people they had just wiped off the land of the living. This wasn't revenge, this was setting a precedent, reminding the world what they were capable of.

It was still a rather anticlimactic end for an entire clan.

* * *

Up close, the Sonzaina clan compound certainly looked like it had seen better days, Karma thought as she walked through the village that had become a ghost town. There were maybe a hundred buildings, but almost two thirds seemed abandoned and the rest had been heavily patched up.

Not that it mattered now. No one would ever live there again.

A woman had collapsed over a vegetable stand, her basket fallen over and contents scattered on the street. A teenager boy was hanging from a roof, legs dangling and not yet stiff with death. An elderly man was slumped against a wall, seemingly asleep.

A child was wailing. She had heard such signs of life before, but other clan members had gone after those. This one was hers. With some sadness and pity, she headed towards the sound and kicked in the door of a particularly run down shack. Karma saw the boy instantly, he was screaming his lungs off while trying and failing to wake up his father, who had slumped over the tatami mats, the remains of his dinner scattered about him.

The kid looked about five years old, dark haired and tiny and very much alive. This kind of thing wasn't a surprise, really. Their drain worked better on those with higher chakra levels, so babies and toddlers tended to survive. But then, they had to be dealt with afterwards. The clan didn't kill children.

The boy saw her and flinched, abandoning his father's corpse and stumbling to cower behind a chair, clear exhaustion to his steps. Karma walked towards him and reached out her hand. What was she supposed to say? She hadn't talked to a real child in years.

"Come. You're going to be living with us from now on."

The boy peered out, clearly distrusting her. "Who are you? What do you _want_?"

"We are the people who killed your dad. We killed everyone. You don't have to come with us, but then we'll have to kill you too. We'd rather not."

Karma regretted the callous words the moment she spoke them.

Unlike everyone she knew, this kid hadn't known death. And she thought she could understand him, if only a tiny glimpse. There may be no reason to despair death, but it _had_ hurt to lose Seichu so suddenly.

(Still, there was no use in outright hiding the truth either. If he found out later, and he would, any loyalty would be lost and never won again. Once upon a certain story, Sasuke had reacted badly enough and most of Konoha had been in the dark and guiltless when it came to the Uchiha.)

The boy screamed again, this time in distinctly surprised horror as if he had opened a present and found a severed head inside, and scrambled towards the corner. "Y-you! You killed - ! _Why _would I want to live with _you_?!"

Karma could see his face clearly now, peeking out to stare at her in outraged terror, and saw bruises, new and old. His skin was a patchwork of colour, waning yellow, fresh red and various shades of blue, purple and green.

"...Did you like it here?"

He flinched.

"They... they were still my parents! Better than murderers!" he spat at her.

"We are all shinobi. That's what we do. But if you come with us, we will protect you," Karma said. "We will let you eat all you want, and no one will be allowed to hit you. Come with us."

She hoped it was enough, sweet-talking wasn't one of her talents. The words came easily enough, but the tone of her voice tended to hover somewhere around 'dull and flat' if she didn't pay attention.

She didn't much care for having to do this either, but surely it was better to manipulate him so that he could live? She remembered Danzo and the comparison stung, but at least she and her kin saw the children as people and not as tools to be used and discarded.

Surely, there was a difference.

It took several minutes of coaxing, but eventually the boy took her hand and let her drag him away, half-heartedly trying to escape every now and then. Karma assumed this was the best she could get. He probably needed this small piece of defiance right now, when his life was so out of his control, having just lost everything he'd had.

It was an odd trip back to the village to say the least, with several people carrying babies and tiny children, all of them in various states of distress. Karma's little charge had all but torn his hand off from hers the second she had let him and then ran to hide behind Satoshi, who had merely smiled sadly and hoisted him off the ground. He was now curled up against Satoshi's shoulder, exhaustion and stress having caught up with him, and unknowingly spilling out what would have been vital information if his clan had been alive.

"...We can't move, when we use that technique. And we don't really have anything else that's special, mum complained about it all the time. So we needed to ally with some clan more powerful than us, and dad was always worrying about it. He said it was dangerous and would get us all killed, when he drank, and then he'd hit me for snooping."

Satoshi shared a glance with Karma, raising an eyebrow. Karma nodded.

That certainly explained things. It was like the Ino-Shika-Cho all over again, wasn't it? Powerful, highly useful technique that was also limiting and more of a support-type. An alliance to people with more combat prowess would have been ideal. A clan that had apparently requested a child of the Samsara as a part of the deal.

Of course, those people would soon _also_ become ashes in the wind, once the Samsara found their trail. Group D had been in charge of making sure no one escaped the initial ambush and staying behind to gather intel on the third party and, well.

There might still be Sonzaina out there on missions. And they would return to their village sooner or later.

* * *

Somehow, Karma hadn't expected any other consequences from the incident, had unconsciously assumed that their way of living was entirely separate from the outside world and would return to what it used to be. It had been rather foolish, she thought now.

Of course there were changes. That was the only way to keep living.

Someone out there had judged their blood limit valuable enough and risk low enough to attempt kidnapping, even if it was through a third party. Someone they _hadn't_ been able to find, no matter how much they had combed. They were clearly not as protected by their reputation as they had assumed.

As a result of it all, some months after their show of power, the Samsara senate had decided that they needed a surveillance system.

Karma and Dakini stood on a rocky grass plain about half a mile from the village proper, admiring the construction site. After six months of work, it was about halfway built so that the general structure was visible, a round, tall building that rather resembled a salt shaker.

As all communal projects were wont to do, this one was also designed after a certain architectural style and already looked positively gothic, brimming with elaborate spires and pinnacles and ornate façades. There were even some statues of gargoyles sitting on a stony rim near the top. Karma thought it would look especially impressive and intimidating during some stormy night, a proper setting for a horror movie.

As always, curious crows were scattered about, hopping on supporting beams and poking their beaks into everything, chattering questions to the workers who answered them more or less amicably.

To the left were the workshops where the intricate instruments and contraptions were made; Karma and Dakini could hear the hiss of something being welded together and see the large pots where glass was melted. There was a faint smell of ozone in the air, mixing with smoke and food cooked over fire.

It was to be an observatory, after all, and telescopes were only the most obvious things that were needed. Unlike their counterparts in another world, these would be inscribed with seals far more intricate than those in Karma's little spyglass. The largest telescope would be an eye that could see halfway across the Land of Fire. The process was complicated and laborious, as the seals had to be modified for the needed scale and both carved and inked on the metal. Properly made, they would last centuries.

There were also people bringing in supplies, more food and drinks and building materials. A group of people appeared to be having trouble with a crate of recycled brass pipes, cursing loudly in several languages. Others could be seen pushing a large cart full of sand that teetered on the verge of toppling down, wobbling alarmingly.

Karma's mother was there, too, bringing in baked goods and looking happier than in years. She was holding the hand of a familiar little boy who seemed a lot healthier now, no longer bruised and getting fuller in cheeks. He looked to be in awe of the half-built observatory, pointing and jumping in excitement. Karma smiled, a little sadly. But they appeared happy, and Karma could never have been a child for her.

And she had her own reasons to be here. Construction could be delicate, but other times you just needed to be able to hold a hammer and hit the nail instead of your thumb. She and Dakini took off for the construction site proper, throwing impish glances at each other. Maybe they could find some suitably docile man to bully into showing them the ropes; Dakini had been rather eager to test out her developing chest and Karma had found that men tended to get flustered when she stared from underneath her eyelashes and tilted her hips just right.

Sometimes Karma wondered this was the effect of her best friend, or something she had always had in herself, buried somewhere deep.

* * *

In good time the observatory was finished with much fanfare and celebration and slowly Karma's second childhood gave way to adulthood, with little drama.

The little boy, called Sousuke (and Karma had almost done a double-take at this) never did quite warm up to her and both of them were silently relieved when Karma's mother stopped insisting that he call her 'nee-san'. Still, he no longer glared and both of them could stand to be in each other's company when Karma visited home, even if no words were spoken and there was a distance that couldn't be crossed.

Karma kept on with her hunting career, as did Dakini, the trips thankfully rather less eventful than their first. It was still so very hostile everywhere. They even managed to witness a skirmish between the Uchiha and the Senju once; Karma instinctively looked for people she might recognise and saw none. Then again, they did run away from her team in record time and she had some trouble suppressing her grin.

It was all change, Karma thought, however slow it came about. They were no longer quite as separate from the world, not as unconcerned about it, even as their interest remained remote. They had never been _ignorant_, per se, but there was a difference between a clinical truth written on paper and a raw truth seen with one's own eyes. Karma could follow the shift, the way middle aged ladies started to lament the constant bloodshed while gossiping at the marketplace, the way her teammates eyed battlefields with growing distaste. But it wasn't enough to make them act. They had lived in seclusion for centuries and the chasm would not be crossed easily, if ever.

Dakini signed the summoning contract when they were seventeen. The stubborn, lingering remains of Karma's jealousy (almost) evaporated when Dakini pulled her on the back of her summon and they flew, seeing the land stretch across miles and miles, feeling the wind in their hair. She had wanted it, but had somehow imagined flying alone, and it was so much better with Dakini, who had never before flown in either life. Karma smiled and leaned against her best friend, letting Dakini's enthusiasm wash over her in comforting waves.

They never did find out the men behind the men who had tried to kidnap their own. The war reigned on outside, visible and present through the glass eyes of their observatory like it never had been before. Yet, over the years no one tried to attack them again, covertly or in the open, for rumours had spread quickly and their reputation had grown ever more ghastly. Eventually, a cloud of uneasy vigilance formed over the village, a slight tension that could be ignored but not forgotten.

As seasons changed and years went by, Karma rarely thought of that story any longer. She remembered Hashirama, at odd times, when she looked through the glass eyes of the telescope and saw more death, more bloody remains of battles, more corpses of children. Sometimes she would glance at the full moon and think of Madara and genjutsu and the fourth world war of ninja.

But it didn't really have anything to do with her, not anymore. She had warned her clan, her part in that story was over and she was free to live out her second life in peace.

* * *

Karma was twenty-five years on the day that shattered that conviction to little pieces, burned the remains and scattered the ashes to the wind.

The evening was calm, but also stifling and humid. The air stood still, thunder was in the air and a storm on its way. It would probably be harsh and wet, one of those late summer things that celebrated the strength of the waning season and paved way for autumn.

Karma was very much looking forward to getting back home and into a shower before the torrent hit. The thin hairs of her neck were plastered against her skin and sweat made her clothes clammy. The observatory had been cool and pleasant, but it was all for naught the second one stepped outside.

Karma was halfway home when she was approached by a messenger crow. She raised an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

The crow cawed and managed an uneasy expression. "The head wants to see you, miss Karma. He... seemed worried."

Karma followed after the bird without a word, both speeding up on an unspoken agreement. If something worried Satoshi, it had to be serious.

Karma rushed through the hallway and to a familiar room, which was as cluttered as ever. However, someone seemed to have been looking for something without any particular care to the mess they had left behind. Books were in piles instead of neat stacks and paper was scattered everywhere. She entertained a brief image of a pack of monkeys rampaging through the room, screaming and babbling.

It was lost when she spotted Satoshi. He looked agitated and was pacing back and forth, his hair sticking out in a mess. He startled visibly when he saw her and waved to get her to join him at the table. He didn't even wait for her to sit down before he spoke.

"I meant to only record the facts, let the future generations decide what to do with them. But it seems that future has already arrived."

Satoshi grimaced. It transformed his features, made him look older, more like a ninja clan leader and less of a friendly elder brother.

"We cannot blindly follow tradition for its own sake. There is value in not judging others, true. In this case, it might be necessary. We will observe, carefully, and judge. This once."

"Satoshi?" Karma said carefully. From what he said, it seemed... but it couldn't be true, surely? _Surely?_

Somewhere outside the storm had broken out; rain splattered on the roof and wind howled. Thunder cracked in distance and bolts of lightning flooded the room in bright light and deep shadows.

Satoshi handed her a scroll, wordlessly. It was good paper, Karma thought. Expensive. Official-looking.

She unrolled it with hands that were far steadier than she felt; something cold and nervous seemed to wriggle inside of her. The handwriting was neat, bold lines and rounded shapes, but Karma couldn't pay attention to the calligraphy.

_Greetings!_

_I am the head of Senju, writing to the head of Samsara. I hope this letter finds you at good health. _

_Unfortunately I have been unable to find out your given name, or even a consensus as to your clan name. Most commonly agreed is 'Samsara', and I hope you can bear with me for using that even if it is, indeed, incorrect. _

_We Senju and the Uchiha have reached an agreement to bury old enmities and strive for a brighter future by building a new settlement by the name of Konoha. Already we have been able to make alliances with several clans who have agreed to join us. I am well aware of your history of a particular kind of neutrality and that you are generally considered rather, shall we say, frightening. I realise that you are not likely to wish to live with us. However, we aim to create a more peaceful life, one where children do not have to kill each other before they know the taste of sake. We would wish for your cooperation with this dream. _

_I would be most honoured if you could be persuaded to meet with me and the Uchiha clan head at a location of your convenience, in order to discuss mutually beneficial ways to proceed and reach that peace together. _

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

_Senju Hashirama_

* * *

Author's notes: A lot happened and many years passed, because I want to move on to the plot. It might have been a good idea to elaborate on the clan culture and people a bit more, but eh. This is what it is now. And there will be more chances in future chapters.

From Seichu's makeshift funeral, someone might figure out his ethnicity in his previous life. I won't be elaborating. He was a private person, so his students never knew. Satoshi did, though.

The Sonzaina affair was a right mess, all in all. I'd imagine their mysterious employers/prospective allies were not so much expecting them to succeed at the kidnapping as they were gauging the reaction of the Samsara. As Silver Queen put it, they'd thought it would be along the lines of 'nope' and instead got total annihilation. So, naturally they'd hide their trail and lay low.

The difference of this and the previous incident where Seichu's teacher wiped out a clan by himself was that this time no one had dug up any clan secrets. They intentionally made a spectacle, so that it would act as a deterrent.

I imagine the observatory as something quite a few of the Samsara use in their free time. They rarely leave their village, so it is a chance to observe a bigger area of the world. It also means that they had to see with their own eyes just how violent the world is, so they're now more aware of how bad it is out there. If you aren't a hunter/active shinobi, like Karma and Dakini, you just aren't exposed to a lot of violence. Ironically enough, for all they're cursed with death, Samsara have the highest life expectancy out of all ninja in the elemental nations.

Hashirama's letter was one that was carefully worded and rewritten many times. Can't you just see Tobirama hovering over his shoulder, going 'you can't write _that_!' The intention was to ask for an alliance, but in such a way that they would not offend the Samsara by not asking them to actually join Konoha. They're still the ninja vampires, after all.

I'm really looking forward to posting the next chapter, more than any of the others. Probably goes up next Friday.


	4. Culture clash

Author's notes: I decided that Karma used to be Italian. I originally didn't much care for her nationality, but when I thought of the future plot, I realised that it will actually matter. I might have to go edit the previous chapters at some point.

* * *

**Culture clash**

* * *

"This is ridiculous and will come to bite us later. Mark my words, Hashirama."

Hashirama sighed with the kind of tired air that implied this discussion had been repeated several times recently, with no change in either arguments or the end result. While it was certainly no surprise that Madara disliked something (heavens knew the man could nurse a grudge), this was getting nowhere.

Normally, he would have challenged Madara to a spar since nothing could distract him better, but they were already inside the Samsara territory and Hashirama had a feeling that decimating their hosts' forests and fields would give a rather poor first impression.

"We cannot risk having enemies this close to Konoha," Hashirama explained instead, not really believing attempt number twenty would be any more successful than its predecessors. "I know it's dangerous. But we have to prevent the chance of facing what happened to the Sonzaina, and the Samsara wouldn't have invited _us_ of all people to their own village if they wanted to lay a trap."

Madara scoffed. "Since when did they make sense? We're talking about those _ogres_."

Hashirama liked to think he was a patient man, having waited and worked for years and years to achieve his childhood dream of peace, but even his tolerance was starting to wear a bit thin by now.

"Is there a _reason_ you're acting like this, Madara? You're not usually quite this petulant. I'm also fairly sure that the Samsara are in fact people and do not possess fangs or colourful skin. Or wear animal skins, for that matter."

There was a pause.

"...Haven't you Senju suffered from their attacks before?" Madara finally asked with a terse, clipped voice.

Hashirama blinked. "Not any more often than others, I should think."

Madara shifted uncomfortably. If he had been someone else, he would have looked embarrassed.

"...Uchiha abilities don't work well against them," he finally admitted. "You can't copy a bloodline and something about their chakra renders genjutsu useless. And they don't need to get close enough for taijutsu."

Ah, of course it would have been something like that. Hashirama tried to suppress his grin. As Madara wasn't set off, he thought he'd probably been fairly successful. "Well, then it's a very good thing we're going there to sign a _peace_ treaty, isn't it?"

Madara scoffed, looking like he wanted to reply with something scathing and angry - having never liked to admit anything he perceived as weakness - but was cut off by a sudden commotion up ahead. Both men left their argument there and moved closer, remaining hidden in the vegetation.

From what Hashirama could tell through the foliage, a group of bandits had sprung a trap on two travellers wearing bright orange robes. The outlaws were well armoured and numerous. Their would be victims were distinctly slim in build and seemed wholly uninterested in what was happening around them.

Both Hashirama and Madara instantly wrote the bandits off as toast.

(There was something to be said about ninja instincts and neither was the head of their clan by the merit of their lineage alone.)

"Oh dear, you must be new around here," said the blond man. Somehow, he managed to radiate sincere concern where his companion merely seemed like he was about to keel over and fall asleep. "This is our territory, and while we generally refrain from vigilante justice, it _is_ our responsibility to keep the peace around here. It would be best for you to leave."

The bandit leader sneered. He appeared to be in charge by the virtue of the breadth of his shoulders and the width of his moustache, but had unfortunately not been blessed with any more common sense than his men. "Ha, what are two stick men going to do, huh? Get them, boys!"

The blond man sighed and his hands moved in a rapid seal sequence.

"Foxfire."

Green balls of light burst from his body and chased each other in an almost playful line, before they flew out and struck those bandits who had been foolish enough to continue the charge. At the same time, the other man darted from behind the blond and lashed out with kusarigama covered in a green sheen of chakra. He moved fast enough that only Madara's Sharingan could really see him and his chains almost seemed to have a life of their own, striking and retreating in a storm of blades. It was hard to say who exactly hit what, as the green lights danced across the battle and each man to get hit glowed green for seconds and dropped dead.

It was all over in less than a minute.

Hashirama and Madara looked at the corpses that littered the land, at the two men (who appeared to be lamenting they had been waylaid when they were so busy and that they'd need to get rid of the corpses now, what a bother) and then at each other.

Hashirama steeled himself. He _had_ known what kind of people they were. And while it was a bit rattling to see the manner these people treated killing (a dull chore rather than a duty), well. It was surely still better than the sort of sick ecstasy some thoroughly broken people took out of murder. Right?

Right.

Hashirama took a deep breath, straightened his back, settled his face in a friendly smile and stepped out on the road. Madara hesitated, cursed himself for it, and followed.

"Ah, excuse me. I am Senju Hashirama. May I assume that you would be...?"

The blond man started and beamed, looking as though some inner fire had been lit up. "Ah, yes! I am Satoshi, the head of Samsara. Very pleased to meet you!"

He approached with brisk steps and offered his hand to Hashirama, who froze and stared at it uneasily. Tension weaved into the air. Apparently realising he had made a mistake, Satoshi grinned sheepishly and almost managed to pull his hand back before Hashirama struck out and grabbed his palm in a vice grip.

"Likewise," Hashirama said, face determined, and prayed inwardly that this would not mess up the negotiations before they'd even begun.

He'd been surprised by the gesture, sure, but cultural clash was to be expected and if these people greeted each other by shaking hands, well. He supposed he could see the logic of the custom. For people who could absorb chakra, voluntary skin contact had to be some sort of a trust exercise.

And he needed that trust. No one had said peace would come easily; Hashirama had fully expected setbacks and unanticipated problems.

There was a heavy pause, as the two men regarded each other, hands clasped and postures stiff. Hashirama could almost feel Madara's incredulous stare bounce off the back of his head, but held on firmly. This was one of those 'make it or break it' situations.

(Though, hardly ever had so much ridden on a single handshake. While he and Madara had sealed the peace between their clans with one, that had been a formality and a ceremony by that point.)

Then, Satoshi seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, relaxed and smiled wider, a glimmer of marvel in his eyes.

"...I believe we will get along splendidly, Hashirama-san."

* * *

Madara had expected several things from this farce, however vague and shapeless they had been. Some of his clearer predictions had included cold blooded murder of people, which, admittedly, had been appropriately dealt out. Everything else, now... well.

He had _not _expected the head of the notoriously brutal clan to smile like the sun and talk as far as a river could run. He desperately wished Hashirama would have had the foresight not to start a discussion about the respective political systems of their clans.

Then again, Hashirama seemed to be endlessly fascinated rather than wishing his ears would fall off and die. No, after Hashirama had taken that idiotic leap of faith by grabbing the hand of the _Samsara clan head_, he and Satoshi had bonded instantly over talking about what the latter called 'political sociology'. To Madara's mild horror, both appeared to be hopelessly interested in the technical details of how to go about ruling people.

"Really? A separate council with their own leverage? And military functions divided from the main affairs... I've never heard of such a way to manage a clan!"

"Well, it works for our particular situation. For all we are family, we tend to hold very different opinions - such is the weight of our history. And really, it's all about the size of population. Hypothetically, if there were even more people to govern, one of the best ways to go about it would be to divide power into three parts. One making the laws, one enforcing them, and one to judge the trespassers. This way, no one is above all others. Prevents corruption."

"Oh, that's _brilliant_. But that kind of thing wouldn't really work for us, as a mostly military society. The cost of reducing the possibility of someone abusing their power has to be in efficiency. We also need to enforce unity, since we are only just getting to the cooperation part after such long warfare. Although I suppose we _should_ have a council of some sort, too, if only to make sure the Hokage doesn't drop dead from paperwork."

"Oh, definitely. And while it's not my place to _decide_, I would still advice to give people a way to express their wishes and discontent. As you said, you are not only building a larger and more stable society than shinobi are used to, but also trying to make former enemies get along. _That_ will be difficult, because old grudges will eventually rise up. Even the most impartial ruler might bring these attitudes to the job unconsciously and alienate those people."

"That's true, we _really_ can't isolate any clan from having political sway. I've been thinking..."

Madara tuned Hashirama out and prayed for another nice bandit attack to end his misery.

* * *

During the rest of trip through patches of forests and meadows, Hashirama and Satoshi continued to get along marvellously and Madara swiftly ended up hating the guts of the military commander by the virtue of the man's corpse-like demeanour and grating verbal tic.

The thing was, Hashirama was generally able to befriend a rock and Madara was on fully familiar ground with unreasonable dislike. Thus, both had made the mistake of thinking they now knew where they stood.

When they reached the outermost stone sentinels of Samsara territory, it turned out that their hosts had secured their entire compound with the most complex and alien seal array Hashirama and Madara had ever seen. To gain access to the village without frying their chakra coils, both had to shake hands with and provide a chakra sample to a 'virtual projection'. The entity was in the shape of a blue, transparent woman and spoke in an odd dialect that would have been polite if not for the lack of any life in her voice.

When enquired about it, Satoshi shrugged and said that the original seal master had had an odd sense of humour (which, of course, explained precisely nothing). Hashirama and Madara shared an uneasy look, hands still tingling from the contact with ethereal blue.

Then there was the cold hard fact that both of them were wholly unable to read the name inscribed over the ornate entrance gate of the village.

What it said was: प्रेत-ग्रामं

Satoshi smiled at their confusion and translated without prompting, explaining that the writing meant "village of Preta" (which implied that the Samsara had a whole second _language_ besides their own, as unbelievable as the idea seemed). 'Sanskrit', Satoshi said, confirming the thought, and left it at that.

Sadly, they were both still unaware that it would only escalate from there.

(What Satoshi failed to explain was that the word 'Preta' translated into '餓鬼', or 'Gaki' in Japanese, effectively naming the Samsara village after the realm of hungry ghosts where lost souls wander and suffer of endless hunger they cannot seem to sate. This name had, naturally, been chosen entirely on purpose once upon a time.)

* * *

As could have been expected, the whole of the village was a far cry from the stark military compounds Hashirama and Madara were familiar with.

Preta was situated in a sizable notch beyond the forest and before the mountain truly began to climb. A small river ran through it, and well maintained roads lead away from the village. There were small houses built of wood and paper, which would not have looked out of place at any reasonably wealthy civilian village. The streets were paved with stones and had carved rain gutters on each side. There were plants everywhere, neat grass and cherry trees and gardens full of flowers.

On the weird and unusual side, however, here and there were also large buildings made of stone and metal and glass. They also had peculiar decorations which often clashed magnificently with each other. One had white stone and gilded ornaments, one had been built with large stained-glass windows and high arches, one had colourful tile mosaics and bulbous shiny domes. Here and there, half embedded in the ground, ran glass tubes that glowed a bright poisonous green. For whatever reason crows were everywhere in large numbers, landing and taking off, chattering and dotting the skies as tiny flecks of black.

And yet, it was still the people that managed to be the most shocking. Madara and Hashirama stood on the edge of what seemed to be the centre of the village, a plaza paved with white rock that had veins of gold and shone like a mirror.

"Like colourful birds," Madara said quietly. Somehow, Satoshi's bright presence had not prepared him for this. (And Madara already felt his dread for this meeting worsen in anticipation, if that man and his optimism were the _norm_ and not an anomaly. A whole clan of Hashiramas. Maybe he could still escape.)

The actual Hashirama was fascinated. The scene in front of them seemed as if from a dream. Everywhere were people in brightly coloured robes that were carelessly draped around the body and revealed quite a bit of skin. The green was that of new leaves, the yellow a shade of dandelion and the blue of the vivid summer skies. There was plum violet, blood red and orange of exotic fruits, all of them embroided in silver and gold and gems. There was also jewelry of all kinds, often large and ornate, made of silver and pearls or gold and bright stones, and glittering in the light of the lanterns that shone against the evening sky.

The music flowed like fine vine in the warmth of late summer night, a mixture of rhythmic drums, leisurely trills of some kind of string instruments that looked like large misshapen shamisen, and deep moans of a long curved tube one particularly passionate man played as if it was his lover. There was laughter and song, the words alien and lilting to his ears. People were dancing with the kind of wild abandon Hashirama had not seen outside the context of desperation and blood - moving seamlessly, drifting together and away, robes fluttering and billowing in a sea of fabric. Jewelry glittered like sunlight on water.

Hashirama couldn't help but wish, for the briefest seconds, that he could join these people as one of them. He loved his own kin and would never abandon them, but... the attraction was there. He was used to sparse joys and heavy loss.

He looked down and saw a group of kids dancing to the tune, trying to mimic the adults, giggling and tripping over their feet, clumsy and uncoordinated and clearly having the time of their lives. Hashirama smiled fondly. He had seen happy children before, of course, and mourned in advance at how their cheer and lives would be cut too short. It would be worth it, blood, sweat and tears, if he could protect the children of the world and make sure they were as safe as the children here. Hesitantly, he waved at a little girl who had noticed his gaze and was staring at him curiously.

Big mistake. Apparently, that friendly gesture meant he had been re-classified from 'scary outsider' to 'new toy'. In seconds, he was swarmed. Hashirama waved his arms frantically, trying to get the attention of either Satoshi or the military commander for backup, but both were still out of earshot and preoccupied with something or other (and Madara was no help, outright laughing at Hashirama from a safe distance, the traitor).

Hashirama swallowed and tried to gently shoo the children away instead. He was met with no success. They all chattered questions he couldn't make out (though thankfully they spoke his language at least) and squabbled to get a hold of his bare hands, apparently fascinated with his chakra. He was glad that the children weren't afraid, but surely they should show a little more apprehension towards unknown adults?

"Now, children, do leave Hashirama-san alone. I'm sure he will be willing to entertain you later," said the voice of a woman. The horde complained loudly, but detached from Hashirama and flocked away. (And briefly, Hashirama thought that there was something odd about their mannerisms, something impish and knowing and all too mature. But surely that was his imagination.)

Relieved, Hashirama looked up to his saviour.

His first impression was 'implacable'. The woman wore teal robes and an expression of neutral interest, her eyes piercing as if she was trying to drill a hole in his head. _Her eyebrows are impressive_, was the final errant thought that drifted by before Hashirama gave her a friendly smile and waved in a greeting. He'd seen far worse looks directed at him by people who were far scarier, everything from utter loathing to doubting his sanity (the latter increasingly popular ever since he began to approach clans with his outlandish dream).

Satoshi grinned at Hashirama from her side, looking rather embarrassed. "Sorry about that. We have never had visitors here, so they can be a bit rambunctious and curious."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm happy they seemed to like me" Hashirama said and laughed. Satoshi's presence truly set him at ease. (And maybe something like this was what others saw in himself?)

"I'm glad. Now, let me introduce you," Satoshi continued. "This is miss Karma. She will be guiding you around the festival. Unfortunately something came up, and my presence is needed elsewhere."

"Ah. Pleased to meet you," Hashirama said warmly and, after a moment of contemplation, offered Karma his hand. Inwardly, he patted himself in the back when she took it and the ice melted from her eyes.

"Likewise," she replied and smiled.

For the next half an hour, she escorted Hashirama and Madara around the festival. While she was unfailingly polite and courteous, Hashirama didn't quite know what to make of her tendency to explain some of the oddities around as someone else's odd sense of humour (how many inside jokes could one clan have?)

Then again, he was starting to feel that the Samsara were almost as if from another world altogether. When miss Karma directed them to the drink table, the table held a colourful array of different drinks, bowls of ice cubes and different fruit and berries. It was a far cry from plain sake, and Hashirama was torn between asking for something he was familiar with and trying out something new to seem polite and interested.

The latter option won, and he felt like he'd managed to pick the right step while blindfolded when miss Karma smiled at his request for a drink she'd recommend, rubbed at her jaw pensively and gave both of them glasses of something that was light yellow and called 'Piña Colada'.

Hashirama had never quite tasted anything like it - the flavours of coconut and pineapple were foreign and exotic - but thought he could grow to like it. Even Madara downed the entire thing, even as he complained about the sweetness of it.

Hashirama was slowly starting to feel good about this. Satoshi and he had a good rapport, and Karma seemed like a reasonable person, if a bit chilly.

In the end, the Samsara really were people, too.

* * *

Soon, the music changed and Madara could tell that the language of the song was a new one, yet again.

To his outsider ears, it sounded languid and rough, fluid and musical in a way their own words never quite managed; like faraway lands where the sun was harsh, the moon large and the night mild and pleasant. Beyond the taps of the drums and the bright melody, something resonated so deep he could physically feel it. While not unpleasant by itself, sharp and honed ninja instincts did not particularly like feeling anything foreign.

However, that wasn't what bothered him. Until then, Madara hadn't _really_ noticed just how much skin was on display, distracted by the culture shock. But now, all the bright, colourful clothes suddenly seemed indecent rather than just exotic, the dance clearly meant to bring out the decadence. Where the mood of the song was just as cheery as the previous one, this one was also considerably more sultry.

The woman, Karma, smiled at them, her face mostly unreadable. (Madara didn't think much of her, really, but at least she'd proven to be the least annoying person around here.)

"Oh, I love salsa. Would you care to dance?" she asked, and offered her hand to Hashirama, who flailed in panic for a few seconds, but did take it.

"Ah, um, Karma-san, I don't know how..." he laughed nervously, looking at her as though imploring she'd let him off the hook.

"We don't expect you to," she replied, looking rather amused at Hashirama's silent plea. "Just don't let me drop. We'll have fun, I _promise_."

Somewhere along the line her voice had gained a heated, sultry rasp. With a confident smile she swung her hips, precisely timed with the beat of the rhythm. The chain draped around her waist tinkled, the hanging gemstones and silver droplets swinging with the motion. Hashirama gulped and Madara stiffened in unease, back rigid as a rod of metal.

The woman had the audacity to snicker at their reactions, and pulled a very nervous Hashirama on the dance floor before either man recovered properly. She took his hand and pressed it against her waist, then said something to him in a low voice. Hashirama took a look around and moved, obviously seeking cues from the people around him.

Madara almost scoffed, leaning against a stone fence with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. This ought to be good. He could have, in theory, danced better than any of these people if he wanted to, copying the movements and perfecting them. _Hashirama_ would just make a fool of himself.

Some instrument he didn't recognise - shaped like a widening tube - blew out a joyous, bright note and the world bled into dance. The woman pulled Hashirama along with the dance steps, her every stride bold and provocative. She was like grass in wind or a slender willow, moving perfectly in tune with the music, a stark contrast to the stiff and nervous Hashirama.

It should have been hilarious, but the longer Madara watched, the more his anger boiled. It wasn't about Hashirama being a fool, either.

He had _never_ seen a woman move like that; the blatant promise of it, of passionate nights and breathless moans and skin salty with sweat. And yet, it was a tease - a hint of things she had no intention on following through, giving them a peek and denying the rest. He could see that in the glint of her dark eyes and subtle grin as she pressed close to Hashirama.

And something about that made her dancing all that more alluring, that hint of debauchery, the _purpose_ of it. Ire pulsed in Madara's blood, along with the rhythm of the music.

He didn't particularly _want_ the fruit she carelessly dangled in front him, mind. If he wanted to have a woman, he had plenty to choose from. It was merely the _principle _of things. This kind of thing wasn't done in _public_.

And Hashirama had gotten caught in it all, the eternal fool that he was. His face was still redder than a tomato and back as stiff as a board, but he kept trying his best to imitate the men around him, pulling her close and holding her waist, moving through the rainbow of fluttering cloth. Madara thought he looked ridiculous. What was he doing, trying to please that woman, these people, by dancing like that when he was married?

As if sensing Madara's gaze, the woman turned to him and smiled, dark eyes inviting and amused, half lidded and sultry.

Madara gritted his teeth and finally turned his eyes away. It accomplished exactly nothing; every woman here seemed to be as shameless as their minder. He could only see swishing skirts, swaying hips and lovely skin that glowed bronze under the lanterns. Did _none_ of them see the need to wear clothes that would actually _cover their skin_? Pretty, smooth legs and toned bellies were _not_ supposed to be on such display.

He was angry enough that his entire body seemed to be heating up, his clothes itchy and annoying on his skin and his pulse loud in his ears. He was going to outlaw skimpy skirts the moment they returned to Konoha.

A woman with auburn curls winked at him, lifting her knee high enough for her dress to slip and reveal a slim thigh. Madara choked, coughed and turned on the spot, ears boiling, all but fleeing from the dance floor. He heard her low-pitched laughter follow him, smoky and seductive and altogether indecent. A shiver went down his back.

He needed a _break_ from these people.

* * *

Having managed to dodge around the crowd and cooled off a little, Madara retreated to the table that served food instead of fruity concoctions and spent several confused minutes trying to find a dish he could recognise. Met with failure, he hesitantly decided to try out the relatively harmless-looking serving of some sort of sea-food he thought was called 'prawn', in clear yellow liquid dotted with red and green.

He instantly regretted his decision when the broth made a credible attempt to burn a hole through his tongue. It wasn't physical heat; something in the food simply sizzled worse than a badly executed fireball technique.

He coughed, eyes watering, and reached for a can of what looked like lemon juice, swatting aside a hand that tried to stop him. That was his second mistake.

Madara's face felt like an oven, but that was nothing compared to the field of lava that was his tongue. He let out a tiny wheeze, sweat gathering on his skin. The drink had not helped, but instead made the pain infinitely worse.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and he turned his watery eyes to the shameless woman who was the main cause of his current misery, if only indirectly. She had a vaguely concerned look on her face and was offering him bread.

He made no move to take the piece. She sighed, just a little, and he jerked away from her hand.

"Bread helps with the spice," she explained patiently, gesturing at the searing dish. "You had bad luck choosing the sour lemonade for a drink. The acid in it reacts poorly with capsaicin, which creates the burning sensation."

Madara scowled and hesitated, but managed to wrestle down his pride and took the piece of bread. Inwardly, he was glad when she looked away; accepting someone else's advice had always been hard for him.

Following her gaze, he spotted Hashirama on the other edge of the table, some twelve feet away. He was eating what looked like yellow rice with pieces of seafood in it, and appeared to have discovered nirvana.

Madara felt a very childish bout of anger, then squashed it. Why was he the only one who stumbled into metaphorical mine traps around here?

"It seems they have shifted from salsa to samba," the woman said in a pleasant sort of voice, shifting the topic, and pointed her thumb in the direction of the dance floor. "Would you like to dance?"

"No," Madara almost sneered, then belatedly realised he wasn't supposed to be rude. "I'd rather eat something that can't be qualified as an assassination attempt. It's been a long day."

The woman gave him a placid smile. "Understandable. I would recommend what Hashirama-san is having. For most people, _paella_ isn't an acquired taste."

Madara nodded stiffly and strode towards Hashirama, not caring if she followed. For that reason, he also failed to notice the slight crease in between her eyebrows or the heavy, concerned look she shared with Satoshi, who had followed the events from the side-lines.

* * *

When the moon rose high, the celebrations were cut short and a large portion of the people went to the forest. Karma invited both of their guests along, and warned not to harm the trees, as they were considered holy.

By then, Madara had regained his composure. "Want to bet this whole thing is another inside joke?" he asked Hashirama, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sure it isn't," Hashirama replied with what he hoped was a soothing tone. (It ought to, he'd had practise.) "There's something odd about these trees, I can feel it. It's definitely a holy forest for a reason. I think I _will_ ask."

Hashirama ignored Madara's scoff and tapped at the shoulder of their guide. "Excuse me, Karma-san? I - _We_ are honoured to be invited to your sacred forest, but might I ask what this is all about? The celebrations were interrupted rather suddenly..."

Karma's eyes widened slightly and she pressed a hand against her cheek in realisation. "Oh, that's right. You wouldn't know what festival this is. My apologies."

Hashirama blinked. "Isn't this Obon?"

Karma smiled that disturbingly placid, polite smile again. The expression sort of looked like there was something sharp under it all, so Hashirama was starting to suspect it meant she was pulling one on him.

"Yes," she replied. "But this is also a funeral."

What?

Hashirama floundered for a moment, thrown off balance. A funeral with lively dancing and people sneaking away to make out? "Oh, I... I see, I'm, well, terribly sorry for the loss. I hope we haven't done anything disrespectful..."

"Never you worry," said the mellow, croaking voice of the old man who'd been walking next to them the entire way, swarmed by a large batch of his grandchildren. "It is our way to celebrate in this manner. I have it on good authority that the person of the day would only be happy to see youngsters enjoying their time."

Hashirama relaxed marginally. "That's good to hear. Might I ask then, whose passing are we... celebrating?"

The old man smiled a toothless smile. "Oh, it's mine."

There was a long pause as the words sunk in. Hashirama paled, while Madara did a double-take, his long hair flying across his face. Hashirama opened his mouth, then closed it and opened it again, unable to find the words.

"We consider dying in our sleep a terrible fate," Karma cut in pleasantly. "Almost all of us are escorted to the next life in these ceremonies. You are the first outsiders invited to attend."

"...I am honoured," Hashirama replied feebly.

(What was he supposed to say to the old man _now_? 'Congratulations on the nice funeral party'? 'Have a nice death'?)

* * *

Hashirama and Madara were standing to the edge of the group of people, watching at the proceedings with stiff postures and unreadable faces, feeling more like outsiders than ever. They were in the thick of the forest now, the only opening reserved for the ceremony, so Madara had ended up half pressed against a tree trunk in order to keep a distance from the people around him.

Some of them carried elaborate lanterns, which were the only light in the pitch black of the forest. Madara could see that several children had climbed the trees around them, sitting on the branches and all around behaving like little brats. The adults at least seemed to pay a little more respect, hands pressed together in prayer.

In the small clearing, Satoshi was holding the shoulders of the old man, who had finished his final goodbyes and was now smiling that same damn serene smile.

"How is he so _happy_ about it?" Madara asked, frowning. Granted, the man had obviously lead a long, fulfilling life, but who _smiled_ in face of their demise?

"There is no reason to despair death," replied the voice of the woman, serene and firm. She sounded as though this was something she believed so deeply it was as much a part of her as her bones and blood.

Feeling a spark of irritation, Madara glanced at her and caught a brief impression of black hair and pale skin in moonlight before he turned away. From the start he'd thought her dull and uninteresting, and didn't now think otherwise, but...

But he couldn't seem to shake off her words.

What did _she_ know of death and loss? The Samsara were already free of war.

And yet, he _still_ couldn't dismiss the faint inkling that there _was_ experience behind her conviction.

Madara sneered, his expression hidden in the shadows of the forest and forcefully pushed all thoughts of her in the back of his mind. He turned back to the ceremony where Satoshi had begun to speak, in a foreign language, what sounded like some sort of a prayer or a sutra. He went on and on, stringing the words together seamlessly. Madara couldn't understand, but it sounded almost like a poem.

"...Assalaamu 'alaykum wa rahmatu-Allah," Satoshi eventually finished, made three hands seals (bird-snake-boar) and his palms glowed green. Madara watched with an almost sick sense of fascination as Satoshi placed his hands on the old man's forehead and neck. Their chakra glowed green and looked like a river of the underworld, flowing from the old man and into Satoshi. The whole scene seemed like something straight out of an old folk story, morbid and ghastly.

Much like a doused fire, the glow eventually vaned and Satoshi stepped back.

The corpse of the old man did not collapse on the ground, as Madara had expected. What did happen was that his gnarly wrinkled skin grew rough, coarse, and grew into true wood. Before his eyes, the corpse became a living tree, the shape of it bearing resemblance to the withered, bent frame of the old man.

There was a moment of stunned silence, as Madara and Hashirama processed what they had just witnessed.

"Then," Hashirama whispered, "Does this mean all of these trees..."

Madara did not yelp, but did leap away from the tree trunk as if it burned.

* * *

Later that night in the clan head's house, two figures spoke in hushed tones of Sanskrit, their faces lit by flickering candle light that drew sharp, dark shadows in the room.

"It seems you were correct in your assessment of both of them. However, he has not fallen beyond saving, not yet. We _cannot_ decide that his fate is fixed, it is not our way. And I will not risk the negotiations based on this."

"Yes. I could see that, too. Standoffish and brusque do not insanity make. But I don't think we can afford to leave the issue as is, either. It is the fate of our world."

"I agree. The best option would be to find an excuse to remain in close contact and observe how things develop. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself."

* * *

The next morning, after a curious breakfast of fruits, yoghurt and baked pastries, Hashirama and Madara were once again escorted around the village by miss Karma. The meeting to hash out the details of the peace treaty was to begin around noon, and Satoshi had suggested that they might want to stretch their legs a little before that, his tone giving off the impression that the talks would not be fast or painless.

In bright sunlight, both the festivity and the creepiness of the previous night seemed to vanish and leave behind a normal, bustling village. Hashirama whistled in appreciation as they neared a particularly impressive building, the one with white stone, high pillars and gilded, ornate carvings.

"What is this used for? For the senate meetings?" Hashirama asked.

"Ah, no," Karma said, smiling far more sincerely than the night before. Hashirama was glad - it seemed they had passed the test.

(In a way, it was a relief that they had been put through all that. Their hosts really were also human, after all, and not entirely comfortable with new people.)

"This is a library," Karma continued. There was a touch of pride in her voice now.

"A _library_?" Hashirama asked, feeling like an excited child. Next to him, Madara also looked reluctantly impressed. Nothing was quite as important as information, but records were dangerous to keep and difficult to get. To think that this whole building was dedicated to such things was hard to wrap his mind around

"Yes. The 'Library of Alexandria'. Come, I'll take you to see the inside."

They entered through great metal doors that were twice the height of a man. The inside was paved with black mirror-like rock. Pale grey light entered the room through round windows high up near the ceiling. The available space was filled by endless rows of bookshelves, stacked with books and scrolls. The air in the room was hushed and musty, and any noise seemed disproportionately loud and forbidden. Flecks of dust danced in the wan light.

"These are the life records," miss Karma said in a silent voice that wasn't quite a whisper. "Technical scripts are back there in their own room, fiction and legends are to the left and empirical sciences to the right. That includes our research into politics and governing, but also chemistry, physics and history, things like that. There are other records elsewhere, but those are classified to the end of beyond."

She turned to look at Hashirama and Madara, looking apologetic. "Unfortunately, I can't let you read any of these. Not even the plumbing manuals."

Hashirama's face fell and he made a little wistful reach towards the shelves with his hand. "B-but..."

Karma's lips twitched in a smile, her eyes warming up. "...Well, maybe if we manage to work out a trade, we could write down edited versions for you. But you should ask Satoshi, I can't promise you that much."

Hashirama's mood went through an instant 180° turn, and he beamed with the intensity of the sun. "Really? You are a great person, Karma-san!"

"...Ah, thank you?" Karma said, lifting her hands in front of her chest in slight alarm.

* * *

They were a few blocks away from the library when they were interrupted by a voice.

"Oi, Karma. I need to talk to you."

Hashirama and Madara turned and saw a teenage boy of fifteen or so years. He had black hair, sunken yellow eyes and a distrustful look on his face, left eyebrow raised and lips twisted in a frown.

"Hello, Sousuke," said Karma, her face so mild it almost looked like she might have been paralysed. Sousuke nodded at her, the movement jerky and awkward, and glanced at Hashirama and Madara from the corner of his eye. Karma followed his gaze and nodded.

"This is my, well, adoptive brother," she introduced. "My mother took him in after we brought him back from the Sonzaina compound."

"_Sonzaina_? Then..." Hashirama said, his voice astonished. He turned the entirety of his attention to Sousuke, who looked a little alarmed at the development.

"The... the clan does not kill children," said Sousuke, his voice terse and clipped, arms folded defensively. "We surviving kids were taken in."

"You're living with the people who killed your _family_?" asked Madara incredulously.

Sousuke folded further into himself, shoulders hunched defensively and anger flashing in his eyes. "You don't know _anything_."

He turned back to Karma, giving a cold shoulder to their guests. "Mother said to tell you that her peach jam is ready and that you should come and pick up your share."

Karma nodded in response and he left in a jog, throwing one last distrustful look at Madara.

Hashirama stared after his retreating figure and turned back to Karma, an uneasy curiosity swirling inside of him. Frankly, he had wanted to ask about the Sonzaina earlier, but how did one bring something like that up in the middle of fragile peace negotiations? ('So yeah, about those people you murdered ten years ago...'?) This was the best opening he could have hoped for.

"Can you tell me about that incident? There was a rumour you took them out because you thought their blood limit a threat, and some say it's because they attacked you... I understand if it's classified, but... "

Karma smiled sadly, spreading her arms gently in an understanding gesture. "But there is a difference, isn't there? There are some things that _aren't_ secret, so I'll tell you as much. We decimated the Sonzaina because they tried to kidnap one of us. It was meant to be a scare, to show the world what we can do. But one of our most important rules forbids the killing of children, so we took responsibility of them instead."

Hashirama let out a breath of relief. "Oh, I see. That, that's _good_. Very good. I mean, not the killing, but... Say, is that why you have such a variable culture? Do you often adopt people into the clan?"

"Yes, that is certainly one reason. We do not go eradicating clans all the time, mind," Karma said, the corner of her lip twitching in a smile. "But we do take children in, and occasionally older people. It does explain the way we do things, doesn't it?"

* * *

The peace negotiations took place in the building with bulbous roof. If they'd thought that one magnificent from the outside, it had nothing on the breath-taking colourful mosaics that adorned the floors and walls of the place.

Even as Hashirama had expected as much, the debate seemed to go on forever. At least the Samsara senate (men and women, old and young, all wearing white robes that were draped over the shoulder and around waist) had apparently decided that peace _was_ going to happen, but they and Hashirama had conflicting goals about the exact terms and how far the agreement would go. The Samsara wanted no ties beyond a non-aggression treaty, Hashirama wanted allies.

One woman with impressive girth and faint bristles of whiskers seemed to take particular offence at the idea of helping out Konoha shinobi in need, and there was a brief, noisy debate over the issue that eventually escalated into a passionate shouting match. Hashirama wasn't sure if he was happy or not that they switched to talking in what he thought was Sanskrit, because it meant that he and Madara were left outside and feeling uncomfortable. Satoshi saved the situation by declaring lunchtime, and for whatever reason the talks resumed after the break as if nothing had happened.

(To Hashirama's considerable relief, everyone seemed to agree by default that no one in the clan wanted to move to Konoha. That one could have become a big mess if the Samsara had decided to take offence at not being included.)

Eventually, a tentative conclusion was reached and a middle road found. On top of agreeing to never threaten Konoha, the Samsara also conceded to let Konoha ninja pass through their territory without intervening and to lend aid in emergencies. However, they adamantly insisted on staying neutral when it came to conflicts between Konoha and a third party.

(Hashirama understood, even as he didn't like it. In the end, Samsara abilities really didn't suit fighting a battle where they weren't allowed to wipe everyone out.)

At least, all of that had been written on paper. A true alliance was as much unwritten agreement, and that would take time to develop. But it was a start.

Satoshi politely herded Hashirama and Madara out of the room by indicating that there were other things to decide and discuss. Behind him, people were already talking in Sanskrit and another shouting match seemed to be brewing, so both visitors left in a hurry.

Once they were back in their guest rooms, both all but deflated in fatigue.

While Hashirama went to the toilet, Madara dropped on the sofa and rubbed at his temples. There were two other seats near his, forming a loose triangle around a small table that held a bowl of fresh fruit.

Being firmly aware he could not match Hashirama in charisma, Madara hadn't talked much - merely tipped in every now and then to try ground Hashirama's firm idealism - but politics always drained him. He was much more used to dealing with problems by using copious amounts of fire.

Hashirama turned on the tap and watched in fascination as water ran across his hands and down the sink. There was another mosaic on the walls of it, swirls of blue and teal. Plumbing and running water were currently a luxury reserved for the nobility, as it would have been foolish to invest in something that required stability when the times were so violent. Maybe he'd ask Satoshi where they had gotten their own system. Karma had mentioned 'plumbing manuals' - did that mean they had built their own, or that they did their own repairs?

"It's odd," Hashirama said. "Of all the cantankerous old men and women who we generally have to deal with in these talks, these were probably the least obnoxious. I don't think a single one of them went with the annoying 'it's tradition' route. Or, at least, they only said that the time when we talked about how fast change would happen."

Madara snorted and popped a grape in his mouth. "Odd? I wouldn't think so. The Samsara in general are 'odd'. If their elders were just like ours, now, _that_ would surprise me."

"Good point. Still, this went well. And I think we can trust them to uphold their end," Hashirama said and walked back to the main room, claiming the second sofa for himself. He might have continued from there, but the sound of a sliding door interrupted him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Satoshi said as he sat down on the last sofa.

"The senate has come to a decision. We have decided to trust you with certain classified matters, as a show of good will," he said with an uncharacteristically severe look. "You would have noticed that we did, ah, 'test' you yesterday? To see how you reacted in an unexpected situation, to see some of your true character... Please understand, we have been isolated for so long - "

"I had expected as much, even if your methods were a bit startling," Hashirama interjected with a smile. "You wouldn't believe the ringer I was put through by the Nara. And we were also able to enjoy your fine hospitality, so that's a plus."

Satoshi smiled again, looking slightly more light-hearted. "Good to hear. What you said just now is actually related to what we debated. Come with me, please."

Hashirama and Madara glanced at each other, and followed Satoshi without a word. They were lead past the central plaza to one of the roads that left the village. Soon enough, they reached a small port built on a part of the river where waters ran slow and deep, resembling a pool rather than running water. There were several buildings linked together on both sides, people leaving and entering with baskets and crates, everyone carrying an air of efficiency.

Satoshi entered the largest one, waving at his guests to follow.

Entering the room, Hashirama inhaled sharply. Madara's eyes widened. They were in a storage facility, lit by what looked like multifaceted glowing jewels. On the shelves were stacks and stacks of fine fabrics in all colours; silk, brocade and cotton; which seemed like they might fall over from the sheer height of the piles. Roughly in the middle, bottles were stacked in neat rows or stored in special shelves that looked like wooden lattice. On the space still left were spices of all kinds; black pepper, nutmeg and cinnamon amongst others; most of them in neat boxes with carefully written labels, some of them still hanging from the roof in bundles.

"We sell other things too," Satoshi said quietly, "But these and certain technologies are where most of our money comes from. Those cocktails you drank last night, we brew the alcohol. The clothes you saw; the fabrics were woven, embroided, coloured and sewn by us. Spices, too, grown in our fields or the mountains, in the greenhouses that allow us to emulate the warmth and moisture of the south."

He turned to face Hashirama and Madara.

"We are, in fact, exceedingly wealthy. It is not something we like to flaunt. If people knew of our money, well, they still wouldn't be able to threaten us, but we could no longer have peace in our little corner of the world. So, we trade in secret, under an alias," Satoshi said and pointed at the symbol painted on one of the crates. It was a complicated, angular sort of a knot without an end; the symbol of eternal karma. Underneath that were written the kanji for 'silk road'.

"...So _that_ is the reason you kill the way you do? To create enough fear that people stay away?" Madara said abruptly, eyes sharpening in realisation.

Satoshi coughed, as if embarrassed. "...Yes. It has been that way for as long as we can remember. However, we have now agreed to refrain from threatening Konoha in any way, and to support your people when they travel through this region. This knowledge, this trust, are what we offer to you; the first time we have done such a thing in the long history of our clan."

Hashirama understood what lay between the lines. This was a heavy offer, the kind that could result in a loss of all friendly relations if handled poorly. It was also an apology, for the test they had been put through. Now, for the first time, he and Satoshi were meeting on truly equal ground.

The two men looked each other in the eyes, seeing hidden depths neither would ever know, secrets and lies that could not be breached. But there was enough trust, and enough truth; for both an alliance and a friendship.

"I believe I understand," Hashirama said, smiling gently. "And I would accept. There is also something I would ask of you. When we visited your fine library, Karma-san said that we wouldn't be able to read your records but suggested that to trade certain information might be possible. I do not mean anything truly secret, but I dearly want to study some of your research into political theory, as an example."

Satoshi inclined his head pensively.

"Your idea has merit; I don't see why we couldn't hash out something. The only problem is, that kind of thing takes time and planning. As of now, you don't know what we have, and we don't know what you want. I'm also sure you will need to return to your village, soon, and I cannot leave so easily," Satoshi said and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Then, his face brightened and he looked back at Hashirama.

"However, I might be willing to let one of my people to go with you. They could mediate the trade contracts and send us a list of what information you would like to be transcribed. Normally, this sort of thing isn't _done_, you understand, but you have proven to be quite reliable."

"Oh, that sounds like an idea that could work," Hashirama said, eyes brightening. "Have you someone in mind?"

"I believe I would choose miss Karma," Satoshi said with a tranquil smile, eyes squinted as if he were a cat. "She is level headed and reasonably agreeable in personality. I also trust in her ability to make decisions for the rest of us. Our future is in good hands with her."

* * *

Author's notes: I don't believe in stereotypes, but Italian culture does include heavy emphasis on body language and hand gestures, so even Karma would have picked up the bare bones of it. I'll make sure to include more of that in the future, as Hashirama and Madara are more likely to notice such a thing than her clan who all are used to having different people.

Madara is perfectly reasonable in feeling uneasy at the beginning, I think. The two of them going to the Samsara, alone, is rather heavily based on threat of mutual destruction. Think cold war. It's only Madara's repeated complaining that makes it seem petulant to Hashirama.

That hand shake was not part of any test of their character, by the way. It honestly was Satoshi's mistake.

If there is anyone reading this who can read Sanskrit, I apologise for the very likely mauling I have done when writing the village name.

For all Madara kept inwardly complaining at how shameless the women of Samsara were, well. He still _looked_, didn't he? I had a lot of fun with that. The reason Dakini first winked at him and then laughed was because she thought he was hilarious standing there and looking like an old lady clutching at her pearls.

When there are trees, kids will climb them. Even if it's grandma.

And yep, the Samsara are filthy rich. I wonder if people picked up on that? They don't really do missions for clients, so they have to get their money elsewhere. They would be self-sufficient if they lived modestly, but instead of that they throw money into parties and buying exotic things.

For all Satoshi is a very nice person, there's a reason he is the clan head. He's very good at the whole politics and misdirection thing when he needs to. As of now, Karma will be visiting Konoha. Doesn't mean I'm never going to bring the rest of her clan up again, I like them too much for that.


	5. New connections

**New connections**

* * *

"Are you sure I should be the one to go?" Karma asked uncertainly. "It was fine to be a tour lady since I had your permission to needle them, but I don't think I'm the best for politics."

Satoshi shrugged, apology written in the set of his shoulders and eyebrows.

Karma was already dressed in mission clothes and they seemed to weigh a lot more than usually. In particular, there was an unassuming brown bag strapped around her thigh, belts tightened around her waist and leg. Inside was a supply of kunai, but that wasn't the point of the bag. Inked on the underside was a certain seal, which would activate and automatically feed her chakra when her own levels dropped too far.

Contained in it was a supply of chakra to last an average of six months, and that alone was enough to remind Karma just how much was hanging in the balance. _No one _got to keep this much chakra at once. It wasn't done.

"You're the one who remembers the story. I could give out a recording, but that's never the same as a true memory. You can react on instinct if needed."

"Yeah, because that's such a great idea," Karma said and sighed. "If I act on instinct, I'll probably insult Madara's entire family before lunchtime, or something."

Satoshi laughed, but it was a clipped, strained thing. "Please, try not to. We don't want to affect his descent. If we are going to act on what is functionally a prophecy, we cannot push him to that outcome. He must fall on his own."

"Yeah, I know. I just hope he'll continue ignoring me and spare me the trouble," Karma said, wilting a little.

"That would be for the best. If you cannot help talking to him, be friendly and polite. He's still in an important position in Konoha, and our trade negotiations are legitimate."

Satoshi frowned, and brushed his fingers through his hair. The blond strands stuck up, as if he hadn't brushed them that morning.

"With all the clans starting to reach out to each other, we also must adapt and think of something else than indiscriminate murder. Sooner or later someone would ask _why_, and that cannot happen. This is the best opportunity we could have asked for, to both guarantee our continued survival and to prevent the future you saw," Satoshi said, and took hold of her shoulders.

"I know it's heavy. I'll send in Dakini as soon as we manage to start with the plumbing, so you'll have her to rely on. It's just best that they get used to the idea of our clansmen being around first. Even if you offend someone by accident, at least you generally manage to act close to acceptable social norms. There are some rather more... _colourful_ people around here."

Karma had to grin at that. Fleetingly, she imagined Dakini flashing Tobirama and giving heart attacks to little old ladies and Hashirama. Satoshi had a point.

"I will give you a crow, however. He will unsummon himself in case of trouble, so we will know what to do and come to help. You'll be fine," Satoshi said, and there was an odd urgent tone to his voice. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Karma.

"Yes, thank you," Karma said. "I know you're doing all you can to reduce the risk. It's fine, I'm a shinobi too. Just because you're the clan head doesn't mean you have to do everything."

Satoshi cringed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I, I used to lead a small tribe of people living in savannah," he said quietly. "I don't even know how long before the Common Era, but I would guess at thirty thousand years, from comparing the archaeological data in our archives. We didn't call it Africa back then, of course, and knew very little concrete information about the world. It always frustrated me."

He sighed a little and looked up at the ceiling.

"We had legends and stories, but those explanations never satisfied me, because there was no way to see the truth with my own eyes. I think I was born too early, all too early. But I was intelligent, and so I became the clan head."

Satoshi smiled, and there was something bitter and self-deprecating about it.

"For a while, it went well. I spent too much time my head in clouds, more concerned about why the sky was blue than the daily lives of my people. But the world was kind enough and we managed. Until we didn't."

Satoshi's grip on Karma's shoulders tightened almost painfully. There was a hint of stress in the chakra that escaped him.

"I might have prevented that if I had bothered to look out for my people, I might have not. But the regret persists, always. I know 'that man' has to be stopped, I _know_ that," he said, voice urgent and tight. "I still cannot in good conscience let you leave with outsiders, so instead I must do it with a heavy heart and worried mind. You must promise me, _promise_ me, that you will take care of yourself and return alive."

"...I promise."

"Thank you."

* * *

"I don't like it," said Dakini in clipped, stiff Sanskrit. She was frowning, arms crossed tight across her chest. Somewhere behind her, Karma could hear Satoshi talking to Hashirama, but the voices were muffled and indistinct.

"It's _not _good that you have to go alone. I know there's this super important 'secret plan' and saving the world and whatever, but that's not an excuse either. It's all too big for one person."

Karma smiled sadly. "I'll get the negotiations started quickly, then, so you can come help me out."

"...Yeah. I guess I'll have to settle for that," said Dakini, suddenly devoid of her usual energy. "_Udachi_, Karma."

"_A presto_," Karma replied, speaking Italian for the first time in years. The words were bitter on her tongue. In the end, it wasn't very easy to leave her home. Who knew how long she'd be away?

After a final hug, Karma finally went to Hashirama and Madara who were waiting near the gate.

It was time to go change the world, she thought. A walk in the park that would be, surely. No pressure at all.

She was right to think there would be problems, of course. However, in the end she failed to anticipate what shape those troubles would take.

But then again, so did everyone else.

* * *

Whether or not it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, Karma did indeed manage to insult Madara before they were halfway to Konoha. Technically it was past lunchtime by then, but that was a cold comfort.

It started out, oddly enough, with an ambush. Karma couldn't help but stare in surprise far longer than she should have, because what kind of idiot tried to ambush either of her companions?

Surely even rogue ninja should have known better, just from the clan symbols both Hashirama and Madara wore.

This area was also still in the outskirts of the territory of her clan. To see shinobi in these parts was supposed to be rare in any circumstances.

But it didn't really matter, for now. Food was food, so to say, and she might as well stock up. There was no telling how long she'd have to go without hunting in Konoha.

The hand seals came easily, almost without a conscious thought. She'd never been the fastest or the most precise, but this technique was one she wouldn't fail even in her dreams. Her vines burst from her body, coiling around her, and -

- and there it was, that familiar fleeting brush of _foul, cold water, flowing through her and calling for her to float away and sleep._

She ignored it with practised ease, and the impulse went away. The call was rarely strong when using the blood limit properly, a barely-there whisper. No one had ever figured out if it was their human minds playing tricks, or something else entirely.

The fight wasn't a problem. Complications crept up only after the action was over, and were of the kind she couldn't just beat into a pulp or drain and kill.

The story of her life, really.

* * *

Hashirama was powerful enough to keep an eye on the woman who was his responsibility and fight at the same time. He almost wished he wasn't.

This close, he could clearly see the sickly green glow of Karma's eyes. The vines that whipped around her made her hair and travel coat billow in the wind, and leeched colour and life from her skin. There was no regard for her victims to be found on her face, she looked as though she had done nothing more than stomp down some insects.

He'd all but forgotten, in the course of the surprising liveliness and overwhelming oddity of her clan, but Satoshi and the military commander had been just the same.

Ninja were used to death, all of them, but most at least acknowledged their enemies as people. To say otherwise was an insult, but only managed to highlight the humanity of both parties at the same time.

With her vines surrounding her, Karma seemed like a creature of nightmare rather than human. (Really, no wonder all those rumours spread if they all looked like _that_.)

The effect was lost as the fight ended and Karma's chakra faded. Her hair settled down, her eyes were once more the colour of tar and her smile was thin and entirely human.

Hashirama breathed out, shoulders relaxing.

No, she wasn't a monster.

But this still served as a reminder that the Samsara were not like other clans and made him ask the question he had been able to dismiss until now.

With no threat of war, no regard for the lives of other people and after centuries of functional isolation, why had the Samsara still agreed to peace negotiations? It had been so easy, easier than his experiences with most of the other clans.

Ignorance might be bliss, but there was a reason only civilians thought that way. Hashirama might be the very image of an unusual shinobi, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good one.

* * *

The problem was with words, ill thought and misinterpreted or merely bad timing and poor luck.

They had made camp for the night, and Madara kept staring at Karma over the fire. It wasn't really a heavy look, it seemed more like he had been caught thinking something and her face simply happened to be where his eyes rested.

It still got irritating after a while. Eventually, Karma's patience snapped.

"Madara-san, is there something you want to say?"

Madara frowned and turned his eyes to the fire.

"...You were faster at draining chakra than Satoshi and the other one," he said after a pause. "Are you strong, then?"

Karma carefully didn't react.

She thought it most likely that Madara hadn't said what he really thought and had invented another topic to cover it. Unfortunately, that question was one _she_ would rather not answer and the truth of it could not be spoken.

But lies tended to tangle, and she would be in Konoha for quite a while. To keep track of deceit would get overwhelming sooner or later.

"I was... _blessed_ with power in birth and so my blood limit is exceptionally strong. Objectively, probably no one drains as quickly as I do," she said and moved both hands in small circles.

"However, our military commander is still more capable in a battle. I don't have... The strength of the blood limit alone doesn't decide these things. You two would be evenly matched in a fight, but _I_ would still do worse if I were to battle Hashirama-san rather than you, Madara-san. It simply works out that way."

Madara stiffened, his face frozen in his usual indifference. He took a deep breath, jerked and twitched and stood up, stomping away from the little circle of light. In moments, his black hair blended in the shadows of the forest and the last glow of his armour faded.

Karma blinked in surprise.

...What had just happened?

She'd tried to pick the words carefully, remembering that other story and Madara's obsession with defeating Hashirama.

Had she still managed to insult him? Maybe she should just stop talking to Madara. There had to be some sort of a sign language around here.

(Then again, spoken words probably weren't the problem. In the back of her mind, there was a fleeting image of her talking to Madara in signs and somehow managing to imply that his entire family was suspiciously fond of goats.)

Karma turned to Hashirama, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. He coughed and rubbed at the back of his head.

"Ah... Don't take it personally, it's just... Apparently the Uchiha have a bit of a bad blood with your clan, since their abilities are a poor match with yours. Madara doesn't like to be reminded of that, I think, and he tends to remember everyone he's lost in his life. But I'm sure he'll get over it! He's a great person once you get to know him."

...And there it was.

Karma almost wanted to smack her own forehead. If everyone in her clan knew that to counter Uchiha tended to be easier than other clans, of course the _Uchiha_ knew that too. And Madara might have lost more than distant cousins to her clan, for all she knew. Hadn't he had a lot of brothers once upon a time?

"I see. I seem to have spoken poorly. And while I don't care if he likes me or not, I..."

She exhaled slowly, and looked at the sky, her brow furrowed.

"I would rather not have him be angry at me either."

Karma stood up and followed in Madara's wake, away from the firelight and into the darkness of the forest.

* * *

Madara had calmed down and mostly stopped planning murder by the time he felt the woman approach. He didn't like being reminded of weakness, especially by someone whose words still wouldn't leave his mind.

('There is no reason to despair death,' she had said with a calm smile and eyes like still water - )

"I apologise," the woman said, her face as infuriatingly placid as always. "I didn't mean to remind you of anything as painful as loss of family. It may seem odd for people who haven't gone to war, but my kin _has_ known tragedy. Of my own closest blood, I only have mother left."

There was a memory of old pain in her eyes now, the kind that was melancholic and nostalgic rather than the bitter thing Madara knew. An aged, faded scar compared to his infected, festering wound that never seemed to get any better.

"My clan just... sees things in different light," she continued, ignoring the way Madara stiffened. "We tend to deal with loss better than most people. I seem to have forgotten that."

Madara didn't say anything, _couldn't _say anything. He stared, barely managing to keep his eyes from bleeding Sharingan red. He had thought her attitude something naive that wouldn't last in face of true pain. Apparently he had been mistaken.

The woman shifted awkwardly. The silence was suffocating, but she showed no sign of moving.

"...I accept the apology."

The words did not want to come out, as if stuck in his throat, but he wanted to be rid of her. Preferably yesterday.

Her form relaxed by a fraction. She bowed, just enough to be polite but not subservient, and walked away from the clearing. Madara watched her leave, gritting his teeth as his fingers sunk in the trunk of a tree. Powerless rage and sorrow swirled inside, so thick that he might have drowned.

Madara had lost his brothers, one by one, and each death had been that much more painful than the one before. Those precious threads, cut forever and lost, and he...

Madara's eyes had belonged to his brother, and he could never forget that for a single moment. He saw light again, but in a more metaphorical sense he had never been more deprived of it.

And she made him seem so _pathetic_.

Her serene face and calm smile, as immovable as a glacier, as if pain would simply wash over her like water. He could not let go, no matter what, and she...

It didn't matter if she didn't intend to mock him, not when her existence seemed to do that for her.

* * *

No one spoke as they stared at the fire spitting tongues of flame. Hashirama tapped his fingers against his leg, looking like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. Madara simply glowered, as if his stare was the only thing maintaining the fire.

Karma didn't pay attention to either man, too busy twisting the earlier words around her head, trying to figure out what she should have done or said instead.

It was annoying, the way her thoughts tried to run in a circle after all the action was over and done with. There was nothing she could do to change the past.

Just when silence started to feel like a heavy, oppressive blanket, Hashirama cleared his throat and spoke.

"Ah... Karma-san... You see, I, well, something has been bothering me. Why did your clan agree to sign a peace contract? I didn't think of it before, but I've twice now seen your people fight and... Well, you... you don't really seem to _care_. One way or the other. You could have just ignored my message."

Karma glanced up, and for the third time in as many days she felt a surge of affection. Hashirama had been uneasy around her ever since the earlier ambush, but was still trying to make discussion and to understand. This was the kind of person he was, wasn't he? Always, always trying to build bridges between people.

Now, how was she going to explain this without telling the truth? Or insulting anyone, for that matter.

Venture bravely into the unknown, girl, to the second verbal mine trap of the day.

"It's not like we don't care about loss of life at all," Karma said and ignored both Hashirama's mild disbelief and Madara's sceptical snort.

"Have you ever heard of the saying, 'a million is a statistic'? People tend to care more about what happens in front of their eyes, so that the death of one or two people creates a larger emotional impact than knowledge of immense tragedies happening far away."

Hashirama nodded slowly, unsure as to where she was going.

"For us, it's the other way around," Karma said and held her hand in front of her, staring at her spread fingers. "If you wish, even the two of you are able to incapacitate rather than kill, yes? Our abilities, however..."

She leaned forward and let her hand lay on Hashirama's arm. To his credit, he didn't flinch.

"Even unactivated, our blood limit still draws in a trace of chakra on contact. It is a useless thing, good for nothing," she said and drew back, flexing her hand in front of her face. "However, once properly activated, the drain is strong enough to always kill. It's unfortunate, but something like that creates a mentality where we can only care about vague things like 'greater good'."

She leaned back on her arms, staring at the sky. There was something melancholy at the thought, after all. Her morals had been thoroughly twisted, just so that she could survive.

"There is heavy weight behind things that are thought of as 'something that has always been'. We never had any allies to begin with, or even real enemies. While living in that bubble, a change in the system was... something we might have liked to have, but not enough to put any effort into."

Hashirama nodded, his frown clearing in a small epiphany. "I see, so when I came along, reached out first..."

"Exactly," Karma said and smiled. The expression squinted her eyes close, hopefully concealing any hint of triumph at the layer of deception she had weaved. "You offered us an easy way out."

Maybe she was getting better at this diplomacy thing.

Then again, maybe not. Madara still seemed two seconds from combusting in anger. Karma carefully didn't look his way.

* * *

Senju Tobirama was not an optimistic man by nature. This was not helped by the fact that his brother was a star-gazer and had dragged him along with this cloud castle of a dream. If they were going to accomplish something as ridiculous as Konoha, Tobirama was going to put every inch of his brains into it to reinforce his brother's brilliant but fragile idealism.

Konoha was a pipe-dream, but he was _committed_.

An alliance with such erratic and insular people as the Samsara would bring in complications, even assuming they weren't planning on outright betrayal. The quick, positive response to that first letter had rung all sorts of warning bells in his mind.

Unfortunately, Hashirama seemed to think there was little to no reason to worry. And had left Tobirama behind while he went to meet that clan. In their village. Alone, if not for Madara.

None of that was good for his nerves.

"_Something_ will go horribly wrong," he said, pacing in a circle. The pattern was starting to wear on the floor. "We're doomed. All of us."

"Yes, yes, descending doom in the horizon," said Uzumaki Mito dismissively. Tobirama had tried to impress the severity of the situation on his sister-in-law every day since Hashirama left. To his irritation, she seemed to take him less and less seriously as time went by.

"But before the death and destruction rain down on us, there is the issue with the Nara forest encroaching some of the allocated Hyuuga training areas. The overall layout of the village can't be modified at this stage, so what are you going to do about it?"

She didn't wait for an answer before shoving a pile of papers in his hands. Tobirama could have sworn he heard her mutter something like 'save me from paranoid fools' under her breath.

"They've been gone for five days," he hissed. "Don't you understand what can happen in five days? For all we know, Hashirama agreed to marry Inakama to some random girl there."

"Inakama has a girlfriend, and Hashirama knows that. And Madara is there too," Mito pointed out patiently. "He'll make sure Hashirama doesn't go overboard."

"That just makes it worse! Madara has probably angered the entire clan by now, and we'll have to go to war before Konoha is even built!"

Mito sighed and rubbed at her forehead. The sooner Hashirama returned, the better for everyone.

Incidentally, Hashirama and Madara did return that very night. Mito was of the opinion that after days of listening to increasingly bizarre scenarios Tobirama came up with, the fact that there was also a Samsara woman tagging along wasn't even worth any shock.

* * *

Tobirama stared at Karma, eyes piercing. She felt a bit uncomfortable, partly because her preconception of him was not favourable, partly because he looked like he wanted to slap himself and hopefully wake up from a bad dream.

Hashirama shuffled awkwardly, and grinned when Tobirama turned to face him. Tobirama didn't seem impressed.

"And how did _this_ happen, brother? Weren't you just supposed to sign a peace contract, not drag in visitors? ...Actually, please tell me she's a visitor and you didn't somehow ask that clan to join Konoha too."

The second new person in the room snickered. Uzumaki Mito was a lovely woman with bright red hair in two stylish buns, and there would have been no question of her identity even without introductions. Unlike Tobirama, she hadn't even blinked at the sight of Karma.

Hashirama flailed, still engrossed in the argument. "No, you don't understand! She's visiting because we'll be trading! You wouldn't _believe_ the infrastructure they had, and all the science! I wanted to read the whole library but I couldn't and Satoshi promised to make edited scripts."

Tobirama's expression grew more and more incredulous with each word, but Hashirama either didn't notice or was used to it. (Either option was equally likely, really.)

"And Satoshi was great - the Samsara clan head, that is - and they were _normal people_, Tobirama," Hashirama continued earnestly. "I mean, mostly, and a little weird, yeah, but all those rumours were really off. If anything, they just liked to party. I wish you could have been there! The food was great, and so was the dancing, even though it was a bit embarrassing to wrap yourself around someone like that, and Karma-san was - "

Hashirama went silent as if he had bitten on his tongue, and his face paled. The collective attention of the entire room shifted on to Mito, whose eyebrow seemed to be inching towards her hairline.

"_Hooo_, you did that? With her?" she drawled, sounding rather ominous. Hashirama sweated visibly, his hands trembling and held up in defence.

"M-Mito, it's not... I didn't... It's just, diplomacy..."

Mito snorted, and turned her attention to Karma, who didn't budge and kept a neutral expression. Mito hummed, looking her up and down.

And then, to the surprise of all, she grinned.

"Ooh, good taste. I would definitely hit that," she said, finger pressed against her lips in a considering manner.

Wait, what?

Karma felt a little like someone had just pulled a carpet from under her feet. But if she'd read the situation right, then -

"If you're offering, I've always wanted to try a threesome," she said with her best innocent smile. "You're quite the babe, Mito-san."

In the background, Hashirama seemed to be hyperventilating. Mito cackled and ignored him.

"As I thought, you're okay," she said and hooked her arm across Karma's shoulders. "But I'll have you teach me that dance, if it made mister wood there sputter like a little genin. Then we're even."

"...Ah. All right. I don't see a problem with that," Karma said. This was not the cultural exchange she'd thought to spread, but, well. It couldn't really hurt, could it?

"Mitooo," Hashirama wailed, having found his voice again. "Look, I'm sorry! Don't ignore me! I'll clean the oven to apologise! I'll - "

"How about you two leave your domestic dispute to when you have privacy?" Tobirama snapped. He seemed to have lost what little patience he had had at the start. "We're still going to have to decide little details like, oh, where is she going to stay? Who's going to watch her? And while I don't approve of this, aren't we supposed to be negotiating trade?"

Hashirama wilted under his brother's disapproval, hair falling in front of his face as he slumped forward. Tobirama rolled his eyes and turned to face Karma, nodding in a way that could barely be classified as 'polite'.

"Welcome to Konoha. I hope we can act in a manner that is beneficial for both of us," he said. Each word sounded like he had to drag them out by force.

"...Certainly. Thank you for your hospitality," Karma replied and carefully kept her face neutral.

There was unmistakeable dislike hovering between them. Karma supposed it couldn't be helped. In his eyes she was a threat, and she still remembered her own old irritation at that fictional version of him. Even now she couldn't quite see him without the distortion, remembering the eventual fate of Sasuke and Itachi.

But it really wasn't any of her business. Someone else would have to save the Uchiha if it was to happen, no matter how much she wanted to meddle.

She was the outsider here. Tobirama wouldn't listen to her.

* * *

The next morning rose clear and bright, and Karma finally got to see Konoha in sunlight. She couldn't help her excitement, despite everything. How many times had she imagined walking these streets in that other life?

Konoha proper was clearly a work in progress, many buildings were as of yet nothing but skeletons of support structures. Some houses were round, some had angles, and all seemed to have gently sloping roofs. Overall, the village seemed rather mismatched - trees grew in little groups here and there and roads were the only thing connecting the separate clusters of buildings.

"That's the marketplace," Mito said, pointing at a long open road lined with stalls. Most of them had colourful fabrics serving as roof, pinned to the wooden supports on the edges. It looked a little like a pavilion town.

Vegetables were the majority of the produce on sale. There were piles of cabbages and large white radishes, bundles of turnips, eggplants, pumpkins and small boxes full of ginger. Meat was rare, but Karma caught a sight of a side alley that sold only fish - giant halves of tuna, colourful koi, tidy rows of clams, piles of squids and slimy black eels.

There were also household items of all kinds, from knives and chopsticks to pots and pans piled up in tall precarious towers. After that, there was a section for shinobi tools. There were kunai and shuriken as well as ninja wire and even a stall that seemed to sell exploding tags and storage scrolls, but no expensive swords or other special weapons.

The place was filled to the brim with people, most of them belonging to one clan or another. Karma saw someone she thought was an Akimichi matron, examining cast iron pots and pans with a critical eye. A man with the white eyes of Hyuuga was lugging along a large basket full of eggs, looking a bit like he was daring people to comment on it. A Yamanaka lady walked next to a woman with the slouch of a Nara, arms locked and carrying new sets of kunai.

But there was also a constant chord of unease woven through the lively hustle. Most of it was subtle and only obvious because Karma was so used to her own kin mingling without care. Other signs were clear as day to anyone with working eyes; Karma hadn't seen this much stiff bowing in... well, ever.

It wasn't a surprise, really. Konoha was young, and most of these people had been enemies not too long ago.

"If you want something to drink that isn't alcohol, we have a well nearby," Mito said, interrupting her thoughts. "It's either that or the Naka river, and no one wants to get water from there. We don't have plumbing yet and from what I understood of Hashirama's flailing, you'll be providing that. Thank goodness, I can't wait to be able to get in a shower."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that. I'll need Hashirama-san's input for several things before the construction can even start, and I'm sure he is a busy man even when he's not scrubbing ovens as an apology," Karma said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Mito snorted, hiding most of it behind her hand. "Oh, I _have_ to let him stew a little. If he doesn't get to work through his guilt, he'll end up doing something stupid. I just have to remember to 'forgive' him after a day or two so he doesn't work himself to death."

She threw a sly glance at Karma.

"I might have been more upset if I thought you actually wanted him, but I rather think you had other reasons for doing that."

"My clan did something 'unheard of' by accepting his proposition. We had to be sure of him. As a woman, I'm sure you agree that there are certain entertaining ways to see what a man is made of," Karma said casually.

"Oh, indeed. For all their posturing, men still tend to fall for the same easy tricks, don't they?" Mito said, eyes flashing with mirth.

Before Karma could answer, they had walked around a round, half built tower and the fabled 'only well of Konoha' came to view.

Karma stared. She couldn't help it.

Around the well were lounging what looked like representatives from each and every clan in Konoha, guarding the well. They all seemed to be trying to look like the situation wasn't patently ridiculous; twenty men and women in full combat gear, doing nothing and occasionally shifting to prevent stiff muscles.

It was almost like a joke, if missing a punchline and someone walking in a bar.

"I know the feeling," Mito said, grinning. "For all I also get why they feel they need to do this, it never fails to make me laugh."

She sobered up and turned to Karma. "You have to understand how things are, Karma. If they can't trust each other with guarding a well, it will be an uphill battle to get them to agree to what a plumbing network should do, especially since it involves your clan of all people. Hashirama is all aboard because he is that kind of person, but the others won't agree. Not at first, maybe not at all."

"...I see," Karma said. "Thank you."

She wanted to groan. Apparently this would require a lot more patience and finesse she had expected.

And one of those she had much more than the other.

* * *

They were almost back to the half built Senju district when they ran into a commotion in the middle of a road. An Inuzuka woman and an Aburame man were arguing and making enough of a scene to attract everyone's attention.

"...and why is this? Because they are not our bugs. What your partner has caught are perfectly normal fleas."

"Shiromaru never gets fleas! You're not fooling me one second, bug freak! I saw those cockroaches in the toilet yesterday, and I don't know why you're spying on us but - "

"Not every single bug out here belongs to us," the Aburame cut in. He looked a little like he was about to lose his temper, even though it was hard to tell through the dark glasses and hood covering his hair. The Inuzuka lady was far easier to read; her face was a livid red and her teeth were bared.

"I find it annoying and tiresome," he continued, "that every time a house is infested with mosquitoes or someone spots lice, it's somehow all my clan's fault. Take a good look, _this_ is what our bugs look like."

He lifted his hand, and a small swarm of kikaichu flew from his sleeve and buzzed around his fingers.

That was when the nin-dog known as Shiromaru saw it fit to pee on his calf.

Everyone in the street froze in horror. There was no other sound but the _pshhh_ of the urine still flowing down the Aburame man's leg, forming a small puddle on the ground.

The Inuzuka lady paled to a ghastly white shade. "Shi-shiromaru," she said, her voice feeble. "I, I wasn't going to fight him. _Please stop that_."

The Aburame stood still, and didn't say a word. He looked like he might have been petrified, if it weren't for the ominous aura that seemed to be gathering around him.

Next to Karma, Mito groaned and hid her face behind her hand. "Welp, one more issue for hubby dearest to handle. Come along, Karma, and you'll get to see his main job these days."

* * *

Before the situation could fall apart any further, Mito took control and herded everyone towards a large tent at the edge of the half built Senju compound. The Inuzuka, named Shitasaki, tried to awkwardly apologise several times, only to receive the cold shoulder. Apparently the Aburame could do passive-aggressive like no one else - the man, Eiji, had not spoken a word and still managed to radiate resentment and indignation.

The sound of an argument washed over everyone the instant they stepped through the fabric flaps that covered the entrance. An irate male Hyuuga and a dark haired woman Karma couldn't place to any particular clan were glaring daggers at each other and sniping insults back and forth. The third person inside was Hashirama, who seemed to be trying to settle the fight. The other two didn't pay attention to him, too engrossed in chewing each other out.

"I have said this, _many _times," the Hyuuga said in a tight, angry voice. "None of my relatives would ever peek into baths. Our clan is above something that vulgar."

"I saw the veins bulge around that guy's eyes and you can't tell me otherwise, Hakkou-_san_," the lady hissed, pouring an impressive amount of sarcasm into the honorific. "Sharingan sees all and remembers all, unlike _your_ eyes! What did he do then, if he wasn't spying on women? Maybe he was more interested in the men's section? Or trying to figure out clan secrets?"

Hakkou's eyes and nostrils both widened in outrage, but Karma couldn't quite tell which accusation he took more offence to. Hashirama looked about ready to drop dead, or possibly cry. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his normally smooth hair appeared ruffled. However, he took the opening he had been given and cut in.

" - Look, Hakkou-san, Muneko-san, that Hyuuga was most likely just making sure there was nothing suspicious going on and was mistaken as to having intended to do something else. A case of 'stepping into a melon field, standing under a plum tree', if you will," he said, smiling in a placating manner.

"Once is a coincidence, and neither a pervert or a spy would be satisfied with just one time, so we only need to watch out and the truth will be revealed. Isn't that a good enough compromise?"

At that, Hakkou and Muneko agreed grudgingly, exchanged stiff not-quite-apologies and left the tent. Karma almost wanted to whistle in admiration.

Hashirama sighed in relief and turned to look at the mismatched group. His eyes brightened at the sight of Mito. Then he spotted Shitasaki and Eiji, and his face fell again.

"Ah... is there an issue, ladies? And gentleman?"

As Hashirama was left to deal with the incident, Mito grabbed Karma by the elbow and dragged her to the side.

"I don't want to get involved," she whispered. "These are mostly all childish playground level arguments, but they could still unravel this fragile peace we have going here. And he needs to get used to it, things will only get worse when the other villages get involved. Everyone will be trying to figure out the pecking order, and I want nothing to do with that either. The spotlight doesn't suit me."

Mito gave Karma a sly grin. "But there _is_ something we can do for him, you and me. You owe me dancing lessons. Mind if you get more than one student?"

"It... should be fine," Karma said, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We're all going to have a dance party," Mito said, almost beaming. "I interrogated Hashirama. It'll be _odd_ to everyone, the way your clan parties. If they feel they're in the same boat, even if it is for feeling out of their depth, something might change."

Karma could only nod and agree, even though she wasn't at all sure about the plan.

This _really_ wasn't the cultural exchange Karma had thought to happen. The entire Konoha doing the tango.

It would be a sight to see, if nothing else.

* * *

Karma had not expected to see Hashirama all that much. The man was in high demand and probably formed most of the social glue that kept Konoha together. It was natural that he'd let someone else act as a liaison while Karma attempted to come up with a rough estimate of the amount of raw materials and what kind of expertise would be needed for the plumbing network.

That said, she'd thought it would be Mito. Or some young Senju cousin with nothing better to do.

Not Madara.

He had showed up, out of blue, and bluntly told Karma that he was her intermediary. She had tried to probe for reasons, but he had clammed up and not spoken another word. Karma had taken the hint and proceeded to pretend he was a glorified coat rack.

(What on earth did he want? He had to have a reason to be there, there was no way he didn't have other duties.)

Madara's presence didn't make things any easier, like Mito's might have. Karma's clan wasn't all that popular for a reason.

"And you absolutely need measurements of our buildings, because of what? That is not information we are willing to part with. There is a reason those blueprints are secret."

The Hyuuga clan head glared at her, and it felt much like the piercing rays of bright white light. He'd introduced himself as Hiruma and had followed social etiquette to the last letter while still managing to give off the impression he didn't think Karma could be trusted as far as he could throw the still-bare Hokage mountain. It was kind of impressive, really.

"I'm not asking for blueprints. I just need a rough estimate of the overall length the pipe network will need to run, so they will know the amount of raw materials needed," Karma explained for the third time.

She hoped her frustration didn't show in her voice. Everyone had their limit, and she didn't want to know what kind of breakdown would result after years and years of self-control.

Hiruma scoffed. "I am still not convinced Hashirama-san made the right choice. How can we possibly trust that you won't build in any traps?"

Karma suppressed several insults concerning his parentage and state of mind.

"We are _professionals_, Hiruma-san. Nothing you don't approve of will make its way to our construct, and I doubt any tricks would fool your eyes anyway," she explained. "We will only add seals you agree with."

Hiruma twitched, but seemed a little more appeased. "We will also test everything manually, for any foul play or faults. I have heard that your seals are unusual, I won't be satisfied by visual inspection alone."

Annoyed as she was, Karma very nearly told Hiruma that his clan should know enough about juuinjutsu to be able to tell if her clan tried anything approaching ill will, but managed to bite the words back just in time, heart jolting to her throat.

"Naturally. How else would you know how to cut off the network from the main channel if needed?" she said, hoping her voice didn't shake from the adrenaline that had flooded her system.

_That_ had been too close. Of all people, Hyuuga were right up there in the 'do not insult these people' list.

After half an hour of exhausting wrangling, Karma was finally allowed to walk through the main street of the compound to get an idea of the layout. She was followed by two Hyuuga in the open, and probably several more hiding in the shadows.

It didn't bother her. She would rather have let the entire clan trail after her than try to ignore Madara.

* * *

Three weeks later, Karma was ready to kill something. It was a new impulse, murder had long since been a cold and practical act with no passion involved.

But Madara would not quit _stalking_ her.

And that was exactly what it was. He was there, constantly, following her as she tried to wrangle estimates and requirements and other thing from clans that thought her suspicious at best and an outright threat at worst.

Thankfully, the current compound belonged to the Inuzuka. Their clans had never really clashed - something about the Inuzuka chakra had always been canine enough to be difficult to absorb. With the typical utilitarian attitude the Samsara tended to have, the Inuzuka had been left alone.

It was a world of difference. Shitasaki outright grinned when she saw Karma and skipped to greet her.

"Hey, I remember you! Karma, right? Kegawa told me you're here for that thing with the thing. Haha, you wouldn't believe the tongue lashing he gave me for what happened last month! I've never seen the old hound so mad before. It's not like we live right next to the Aburame anyway, so I don't understand what's the big deal - "

"Ah, Shitasaki-san, while I'm interested in your story, I do need those measurements..." Karma cut in.

"_Oooh_, yeah, that's right! I forgot. Wait, let me get Shiromaru. He's smarter than me, so I'll have him count." Shitasaki said and rushed off, leaping over what looked like a kennel with all four limbs.

Karma blinked, feeling rather out of her depth. "...She thinks her dog is smarter than her?"

"She was talking about her dog?" Madara asked and gave Karma a disturbed look. It was the first time he'd spoken in hours. Karma shrugged and shook her head.

Then, the moment was over and Madara's expression soured again. Karma carefully didn't cringe.

All of her attempts at talking to him seemed to end before they got anywhere.

* * *

It was at the start of the very first dance lesson that Mito introduced Karma to her son. His name was Inakama and he towered over every other person in the room. Karma had to crank her neck to be able to look at him in the face.

He seemed to be sulking.

"Pleased to meet you," he said in a sour voice. "Kindly don't make any jokes about my height. It's not my fault I'm taller than a tatami mat."

Mito slapped the back of his head. "Don't mind him," she said. "It's an old sore spot. I should have put my foot down and not let Hashirama name him that, but way back then I thought the tradition was cute. I've wizened up since, but what can you do? The name is stuck."

"Mother," Inakama hissed, his ears tinting red. His apparent girlfriend snorted from his side and took a hold of his hand. Nagisa was a blonde girl who was also at least a head shorter than him and infinitely more serene.

"Calm down, Inakama," she said. "No one will care how tall you are when we're all dancing."

"I don't care," Inakama said but relaxed against her side. "All these years and I still can't say no to mom's insane ideas. Or dad's, for that matter."

Karma hid a smile behind her hand. Poor kid. It would be fun to see how he would take to these lessons.

Seeing that the slow trickle of people had stopped, Karma stepped to the front of the tent and clapped her hands.

"Good afternoon. As you probably know, I am Samsara Karma. I have been asked by Mito-san to teach everyone some of the traditional dances of my clan. Today, I will show you the basic steps of salsa and let you practise. Watch."

Karma pushed a trace of chakra into a seal inked on a metal contraption. A steady rhythm and lively melody pulsed through the air.

Karma straightened her back and shuffled to get into proper position.

"For salsa, you need a good posture," she said and stepped forward with her right foot. "But especially you will want to move your _hips_."

She emphasised the word and swung her own hips in demonstration.

"The hip goes with every motion, even if it is the tiniest step. Do not hesitate. Salsa is fluid and sensual, it should come to you naturally. Like when you seduce a man, confidence is essential."

She turned back to her audience. Red faces and gaping jaws were what she saw. Inakama, readily visible over everyone else, seemed ready to fall over in shock. Karma had to bite back a smirk.

Then Nagisa spoke up, voice hesitant. "I want to try. Can we practise on our own first?"

Karma smiled, eyes squinting at corners. On the side, Mito all but beamed.

"Of course."

* * *

Madara tried to read through the report on metal expenditure and recycling during the last quarter, but the words barely bothered entering his brain. Paperwork was boring in the best of days, and concentrating was outright impossible now that he wanted something to keep his mind off of a certain person.

He pressed the brush on the paper and signed it with vicious strokes that left ugly blotches of ink all over both the document and the table.

And then, as if summoned, her voice drifted inside, meandering through an endless river of background noise and effortlessly capturing his attention.

Madara gritted his teeth.

No. There was no way he would keep doing this. He was _not _going outside.

It was getting ridiculous, this need to seek her out, when all she did was remind him of Izuna and his own inability to let go. He had to stop twisting the knife in the wound, forget the woman and finish his paperwork.

He was not that weak. He was _not_.

Cursing viciously under his breath, Madara slammed the scroll down and stalked out of the room.

He spotted her through the crowd, eyes drawn to her like moths to fire. She was talking with his assistant-in-all-things, her hands making firm, short sweeps to emphasise her point. It was probably about the pipe lines, if the angular motions were anything to go by.

"Karma," he said, and his voice was flat, betraying none of his inner irritation.

She turned to him, and something placid and friendly flickered across her face, hiding whatever it was that she really thought.

"Madara-san. You will be escorting me here, too? Aren't you busy?"

He scowled. "I don't care for paperwork. Ichirai can do it for me."

Ichirai deflated, eyes large and beseeching. "Oi, Madara-sama..."

Madara ignored him and walked off to the direction of the construction crew. Karma followed and snickered, half covering her mouth with her fist. He idly noticed the way the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled, and was angry at himself for it.

He had to stop obsessing. He didn't even _like_ her, why should he allow her to draw him in like this?

_Drip - drip - drip - splash_

The sudden rain was both a blessing and a curse, and came out of nowhere. Madara might have been glad for the distraction if it hadn't been for the sudden elated spring to Karma's steps and the way her face lit up. She spun on her heels, tilted her head back and lifted her arms, letting the rain trail down her skin. Her hair fell freely like a dark curtain, no longer resting against her back.

_pitter - patter - pitter - patter_

He was going to regret asking. He was going to do it anyway.

"Why do you like the rain?"

"Hm? Because I'm alive, I think. I'm alive, and I can feel the wind and see the rain. _Look_," she said and swept her hand in a gesture that encompassed the whole village.

Madara stared at her, but eventually turned and tried to see what she did. There was a moment of alienation and strain, trying to push aside years of set ways of thinking. He almost gave up before something _clicked_, shifted, and he saw.

The rain was a drizzle now, one of those rare gentle things in the midst of warm and stormy autumn, and sunlight shone through the clouds in distinct pillars of light. It cast the village in an odd half light, draining the colours but also making them seem fresh and new as though dust had been rinsed from the air. He could smell the green earth and rain. The world had been washed clean.

Madara tilted his head back, and felt the last drops of rain on his skin. When was the last time he had noticed?

Something tight uncoiled inside, and he felt his muscles relax.

* * *

Lately, Madara's presence alone had been enough to set Karma on edge.

For all he clearly wasn't off the deep end yet, she could never forget what she had seen of him in that other story. He had clung to life decade after _decade_, sulking away in his cave, planning and plotting. What kind of mentality did that take?

His obsession with her was worrying, even more so because she couldn't quite trace the roots of it.

He appreciated power, right? Karma wasn't weak, but she wasn't capable of rearranging topography at will, either. So what did he want?

Eventually, Karma thought she understood.

Madara had suffered in his life, and his obsession had grown true roots from that pain.

And she had all but told him that her clan could always deal with such things.

If it really was about that, Karma was going to have to tread carefully.

She was not Naruto. She did not want to 'fix' him.

But she also couldn't ruin his attempts at trying to understand. The thought of doing that skirted too close to intentional sabotage. 'He must fall on his own,' Satoshi had said, and for that to be true, he should also be given a chance to climb up.

So, she swallowed down her unease and smiled, tried to see the man he was and not who he would become. If she acted as she always did and showed him how she saw the world, he'd either find what he was looking for, or give up. _Surely_.

And, to her endless relief and mild surprise, it worked.

After the day in the rain, Madara... well, he didn't go back to outright dismissing her existence, but he did stop with the stalking and the staring.

It was actually a sort of improvement.

* * *

"So, you have the data you need?" Hashirama asked eagerly.

Karma smiled. "Pretty much. Once you look through this contract draft and give me your suggestions, we can go push this project forward and the first workers should be able to come in by next week. The project leader will talk to you about how it'll be organised and what to do if you need it modified."

Hashirama grinned and grabbed hold of Karma's shoulders, spinning them both. "That's great! You really have thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Not really," Karma said, smiling and going along with the impromptu twirl. "It's all pretty standard practise. The scale is bigger, but I've gotten first-hand experience of ninja paranoia these last weeks, so I have an idea of what is necessary."

"I'm sorry I had to leave you on your own," Hashirama said, looking rather sheepish. "I know Madara and you had a rough start. But there's a new clan considering moving in, and they are, well, a bit difficult. Very arrogant, if I can say my honest opinion. I can only imagine how they would clash with Tobirama or Madara."

"Yes, because we also get along so fantastically well," Karma said, the edge of her lip twitching. "But it's fine, it all worked out."

"Haha, thought you'd say something like that," Hashirama laughed, then straightened his back and blinked. "Ah, wait. I think they're here again. Shh, remember, I didn't complain about their behaviour. At all."

Seconds later there was a short, impatient knock on the door, and a group of five entered without waiting for an answer. The oldest man stepped forward. He had a sour look on his face. "Hashirama-san."

"Oboreshi-san," Hashirama said in a bright, polite voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We have gone through your proposition, and we are not satisfied with the suggested clan site. We are fairly numerous, and the training grounds alone - "

"I'm _terribly_ sorry," Hashirama interrupted and lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "But if this is something that will take a while to sort, may I finish my business with Karma-san first? ...Ah, let me introduce you. This is Samsara Karma-san. Her clan isn't moving to Konoha, but we have a trading agreement on plumbing. Karma-san, these are the representatives of the Oboreshi clan."

"Pleased to meet you," Karma said, nodding at the newcomers. The Oboreshi glared at her, as though she had been the one to interrupt them.

She ignored them with ease and pulled out her calculations.

"The central system will be two-fold and take water either out of Naka river or the ground water, and the decision to change which to use belongs to the Hokage alone..."

* * *

Winter was creeping up on the land. In the Land of Fire, it meant rainy days and chilly nights and frost painting flowers on wood in the morning.

Karma didn't care about the morning chill, even if her breath came out as steam. Dakini was due to arrive any moment.

Around her were the familiar faces she'd gotten to know and occasionally contested with in the recent weeks and months, representatives of the clans in Konoha. Hashirama and Mito were the only ones who looked even remotely excited, but at least Tobirama had managed to wipe off the 'we are all doomed' expression from his face.

And there it was, a black dot in the horizon, growing steadily closer. She could almost hear -

"Whoooooooooooooaaaaaaa! Ahahaha! Karmaaa!"

The giant crow flew in a dizzying spin, then straightened and landed gracefully. Dakini hung from the neck, and beamed. Behind her Karma thought the other people looked rather green.

"Finally! It's been forever!"

Dakini leaped off the giant bird and ran towards Karma, who braced herself and let Dakini crush her in a hug. She returned the embrace as tightly as she could.

The crow stood in the back, letting everyone climb down at their own pace and looking like he had never once in his life done something as undignified as spiral through the air at break-neck speed. The rest of Karma's kin appeared to treat getting down as though they were climbing a skyscraper without safety gear. No one moved faster than a snail.

Dakini finally detached from Karma, and turned to face their audience.

"Pleased to meet you! I'm Samsara Dakini, and henceforth responsible for communications between our villages. I hope we can get along!"

Her grin was bright as a torch. The majority of the clan representatives seemed to be doing a rather good impression of a school of goldfishes.

Karma almost failed to hide her smirk.

* * *

"You wouldn't _believe _the trouble we had on the way," Dakini said once introductions were done with and they had managed to slip away from the crowd**. **"I don't have the kind of chakra needed to fly us all the way, and we ran into _three _ambushes out there."

"Really? We also ran into one," Karma said, frowning. "Maybe it's because the land is calming down, and those that benefited from the warfare are suddenly without work?"

"Could be, but I don't like it. We should tell the commander. Which reminds me, I brought you something. Here."

Dakini handed Karma an unassuming brown leg pouch, identical to the one she wore already.

Karma felt something tight and anxious loosen inside. She wasn't sure if she'd truly been running low on chakra or if it was just her imagination, but a new supply was more than welcome.

There were no chakra gauges attached to these pouches. They were meant for stealth, but not long term undercover work. Sooner or later, she would have been in for an unpleasant surprise.

"Anyway, anything interesting happen around here? And why did you ask me to bring you recordings of dance music? Are you trying to seduce a man without telling me?"

Karma grinned. "Oh, you'll see."

* * *

In Karma's opinion, the dance lessons were starting to get slightly out of control.

At first everyone had been stiff and awkward, and there had been quite a bit of outraged gossip around the village. Her students had been red faced and avoided looking each other in the eyes.

However, slowly through the weeks everyone relaxed, learned the steps and got used to the skinship involved.

After a month they had had to switch to a bigger location to accommodate everyone. New people still trickled in every now and then, most of them trying to seem inconspicuous and failing in a manner rather shameful for ninja.

By now, they had moved onto tango, and Karma had to wonder if this hadn't been Mito's plan all along. Dance partners were no longer limited to one's own clan - for one, she could see a Hyuuga boy embrace a smiling Yamanaka and a very excited Inuzuka girl pull along a harried looking Senju.

Dakini whistled. "Now I'm really sad I wasn't here. I can't believe you came to Konoha to teach everyone to dance. I would have _paid_ to see you demonstrate the tango. I mean, remember how those two reacted? Ha!"

"There's always the dance party to look forward to," Karma said mildly. "There will be austere clan heads and elders to shock. This was Mito's idea and since she's Hashirama's wife, they can't really stop it from happening."

Dakini burst into laughter. "Ahaha! Really? Oh man, you gotta introduce us properly!"

"I'm glad you approve," said a familiar voice. Mito stepped closer, her long-suffering son trailing behind her.

"So this was your idea? I _like _the way you think."

Karma stood to the side and watched her best friend and Mito prattle about this and that, wondering why it was that there was a hint of unease in her stomach.

* * *

Karma had not lied when she told Hiruma that her clansmen were professionals. They might have had a harrowing and tiring journey to Konoha, but none of that was apparent in their work morale. The initial construction began as planned, at the root of the recently finished Hokage tower.

Predictably enough, it was barely contained chaos all around. Karma felt rather sorry for Hashirama, really, stuck there trying to keep everyone acting like adults. She and Dakini were just there in case they were needed, not outright in charge of anyone.

The Hyuuga and Uchiha insisted on looking through everything with their eyes, even the lines that went to the other compounds, on the grounds that since everything was connected, a fault on one end could harm them as well. Karma thought it was logical. Other clans seemed to think they were trying to muscle in on their business.

"Karma," said a familiar voice, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to look at Madara. To her relief, the sight of him no longer caused dread to coil inside her.

"Yes?"

"I'm not happy about the plans concerning the Uchiha compound, the line branch is too close to the Aburame. I don't want to talk to that project leader, I don't know him."

"Ah, I see. I'll try to sort it all out, just give me a minute."

Madara nodded stiffly and walked off, while Karma stood up and dusted off her pants. Dakini stared at her, eyebrow raised so high it disappeared behind her curls.

"...Okay, so, here's something I want to know. Since when did you and mister stiff-neck-no-fun become friends?"

Karma was surprised enough that she almost choked on a burst of laughter and coughed. "Friends? We're not _friends_. What gave you the impression?"

"He called you by name," Dakini pointed out. "And he didn't glare nearly as much as he did back at the village. _And_ he asked you to come help out. I've been here a day and he's spoken to you three times, way more than that Hashirama guy."

"Hashirama is busy," Karma said dismissively. "The village depends on him personally, you saw him try to herd everyone. Of course I see more of Madara."

"_Uh-huh_," Dakini said, eyebrow raised. "I can tell when a man wants something, Karma, and I'll be right there to say 'I told you so'. Just so we're clear on that."

Karma snorted.

"You're reading too much into it, Dakini."

Madara had legitimately stalked her just weeks ago. Now, he treated her like a... well, a normal person.

_This_ situation was nothing to worry about.

* * *

For the most part, Karma had managed to avoid Tobirama. There was an odd sort of consensus between them, an acknowledgement of mutual dislike, and they had weaved around each other ever since they had been introduced. She could count with fingers of one hand the number of times she had spoken to him.

It had been for the best, really, considering everything.

Due to the hassle of the construction, Karma had been in high demand and had not been able to sleep properly. As a result, she was sleep-deprived and unusually irritable. That was the first problem.

The second one was the fact that Karma happened to run into Tobirama just when he was arguing with Hashirama about Uchiha and the curse of hatred. It sounded like an old argument, the kind that can go on for ages and sounded almost like a rehearsed play.

She couldn't see Tobirama's side of the story, and if she did, she couldn't believe the reasoning. Not when it so closely resembled the discrimination she had known of in another world, and the justifications used to perpetuate it. Not when she thought back to her own clan, and imagined what would have happened to people like her mother or Rigpa if they had not had anyone to support them.

So many people would suffer in future, an entire clan of people who really were just people, and not cursed so much as suffering from an unfortunate genetic disposition.

Tired and stressed as she was, her anger managed to reach the surface.

"Are you an idiot?" she asked in a voice that was as warm and inviting as a glacier. Tobirama and Hashirama froze, as did Mito and Inakama on the other side of the room.

She didn't pay attention. She was too angry, and it felt like ice and burning flame at the same time.

"I've never heard such nonsense in my _life_. Treating people as though they were dangerous and diseased is the finest example of a goddamn self-fulfilling prophecy. Nothing good can ever come out of - "

"And this is not your place," Tobirama hissed. "You have no right to meddle, and know nothing about the Uchiha - "

" - I'm not talking about the Uchiha!" Karma shouted.

She didn't even remember the last time she had raised her voice. Everyone was staring at her, eyes wide in surprise.

"You might as well have spoken of my clan! What do _you_ know about _madness_? Or blood limits that strain your mind? I do! We know! And we don't treat people like dangerous animals because of it!"

Karma cut off and forced herself to calm down, taking several shuddering breaths. She wanted to keep yelling, to scream her lungs out, but it wouldn't accomplish anything. Tobirama wouldn't listen to her.

Some diplomat she was. Constantly sticking her nose where it didn't belong. Karma gritted her teeth. But diplomacy was also saying words you didn't mean to people you didn't like for reasons you didn't believe in. That, she could do.

"I - I apologise," she said, voice strained and tight. "That was... uncalled for. Konoha's internal politics really aren't my business."

Karma turned and stalked outside, wanting to have some distance. As the door closed, she could hear Hashirama's alarmed voice drift behind her.

Her ears burned with embarrassment and she sped up, breaking into a jog.

* * *

Madara wasn't sure why he followed her. Certainly, Hashirama had been distressed over the whole debacle and someone had to, but he had been able to let go of his obsession ages ago.

He found her sitting on a bridge, looking over Naka river. Almost on a habit, Madara followed the direction of her gaze and tried to see what she did.

Cold moonlight painted a shivering bridge of silver across the dark water. Stars were like drops of dew against the sky. The air was cold, and their breath came out as puffs of steam. The lights of the village twinkled in distance, brilliant and warm.

The sight was as beautiful as it was lonely. There was no one else outside, and the rest of the village seemed as though worlds away.

Without thinking, Madara sat down. Not quite next to her, but still in her space.

"What did you mean?" he asked eventually. "How is your clan anything like mine?"

Karma sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know if it is. Tobirama just managed to hit a sore spot."

She glanced at Madara, rubbing warmth into her arms.

"While our blood limit acts as chakra drain, the fundamental concept is more alike 'stealing life'. The chakra we absorb heals our wounds too. The price of that is... an artificial connection to death. Some of us are able to come through and find that death is not frightening, and the pain passes. Others, not so much."

Karma smiled ruefully and gestured at herself. "Insanity is not a common occurrence, you know. But the risk is higher if your blood limit is powerful, and no one has stronger blood than I do. I might have suffered that fate, if not for luck."

"Then you're like me," Madara said before he could think better. "I won't sign what Tobirama said, but... Sharingan isn't... it's not healthy. I'm also exceptional, so people seem to think I'm three steps from madness."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Moonlight robbed her face of what little colour there had been, and her eyes glittered dark and deep like still pools of water.

"I... never thought of that. I suppose you have a point."

Madara turned to stare at the water, not really wanting to see the shock in her eyes. He hadn't felt a connection to anyone but Hashirama ever since Izuna died. Nowadays, even his own clan sometimes looked at him as though he was a stranger.

He didn't want to ruin the moment. And so, both of them sat in silence, staring at the dark water and pale moonlight dancing on its surface.

* * *

Karma didn't notice that she was back in her room before she had already closed the door, confusion and shock still whirling in her mind. That, that had been the most unexpected thing to happen to her during her whole stay in Konoha.

Madara had actually opened up and told her something very fragile. Had he changed? Or had he been a different person to start with? It wasn't like the manga could be taken as outright gospel.

Dakini had had a point, after all. They weren't friends, but -

Karma groaned. Shock made her head feel like it was wrapped in wool, unfocused and isolated from the world around her.

This was going to complicate everything. But it could be good, too. Wasn't that the reason she'd tried to - to -

- something was wrong. The air in her room was heavy, _too_ heavy, and she couldn't concentrate. Karma frowned, trying to think, but her brain was groggy and uncooperative. Darkness approached at the edges of her vision.

She pressed her hand against her neck. Her heart hammered in her chest, beating a mile per minute, and that too rang a warning bell somewhere.

Adrenaline and fear gave her a moment of clarity. The air in her room shouldn't be this bad. _Couldn't_ be this bad.

Unless someone had made it so.

Trying to hold onto her consciousness, Karma fumbled and pulled a kunai from her leg pouch, then carved several hasty and rough symbols on the wooden floor.

Then, there was darkness.

* * *

Author's notes:

I feel the need to point out that redemption romance isn't my cup of tea. I don't want to put down anyone who does like it, but I won't be writing that in this fic.

I also don't really like how this chapter turned out. Several parts at the end just don't feel right. But I've wrangled with this for too long and the other option was to sit on the thing for yet another month and hope I would magically get an inspiration to rewrite.

"Inakama" is basically the standard length of a single bay: the distance from the centre of one main pillar to the centre of the next main pillar. Also the length of a tatami mat in several prefectures. Approximately 1.8 metres. Inakama is actually even taller than that, and is pretty sick of the jokes by now. Poor guy, he ended up having the personality of the 'only sane man'. I hope to write more of him in the future chapters.

"Stepping into a melon field, standing under a plum tree" is something of a Japanese proverb. It means that doing those things will cause someone to mistakenly believe you intend to steal the fruits and that it is better to refrain from actions that could be seen in bad light.

I hope Satoshi's statement made it a bit clearer as to why the Samsara agreed to the peace contract. If not, well, I'll try here:

A big part of it is to make it seem like giving up killing indiscriminately isn't a 'big deal'. That's the one thing they want no one digging into, the one secret they'll protect even above the fact that they're all from another world.

Basically, the Samsara are trying to keep up with the changing times. It was fine to just do whatever in the general chaos of war because everyone had other and more pressing enemies to think about, but in this era of nominal peace, the other nations might have eventually decided to ally against those assholes that kept killing everyone's shinobi.

The peace contract has three parts, and Konoha and Samsara are mutually bound by them all. The first and most important is that they will not attack each other. There is a sub clause in this that says that neither is required to provide help in the case of a third party conflict - note that voluntary help is still an option, just in case.

The second part is that both parties are allowed to travel through the region the other considers their own without requesting permission. Entry to village proper still needs to be arranged, and chances are that they'll be polite and send a message anyway. Certainly both will be keeping an eye on the other, so might as well.

The third part says that help must be offered for injured people of the other village when encountered. This part only exists to make sure that no one can point at the sub clause in part one and basically leave someone bleeding to death. No one is expecting this clause to be used often.


	6. An old enemy

Author's notes: Could have used another editing round, but it's almost 12k words and it's all blurring in my eyes. I'll go back tomorrow and see if there are outrageous mistakes.

* * *

**An old enemy**

* * *

Consciousness returned to Karma with a sharp shock.

It took her only a moment to realise she was no longer in Konoha. There was forest all around, endless trees that all looked the same. She was lying on her side, stripped of her coat and weapons, and unable to move properly, as though her muscles had suddenly decided to mutiny.

Some sort of a sedative, possibly. Bitter shame washed over her at the thought.

Karma had been complacent. Careless.

There had been no danger or need for constant vigilance in her village, guarded and coddled by her clan, wrapped in a cocoon of safety and kindness. There was a certain sense of invulnerability, also, in knowing that her very skin was deadly and any wounds would stitch themselves together.

Karma had brought all of that with her when she went to Konoha, and a blind belief that no one would dare try anything when Hashirama was there.

Always, she seemed to assume things. The truth of that burned like bile.

Caught, caught like a rat in a trap, a bird in a cage with clipped wings.

Karma gritted her teeth and tried to twist her arms. They were bound behind her back by what felt like handcuffs. The metal was... the metal absorbed chakra.

Her blood ran cold.

In distance, she imagined hearing the ticking of chakra gauges, the sound of that day, always connected to her memory of Seichu.

_Tick, tock, _your time is running out, so said the clock.

"Best not to try anything, girl," said a calm voice. Karma looked up and saw a man in his late forties, his hair thinning and gaining streaks of grey. He had aged well, his wrinkles appearing dignified rather than signs of inevitable decay.

He... was one of the people from the clan that had just decided to move in the village, wasn't he? She remembered seeing him around, that one time she had reported to Hashirama.

Karma frowned. They couldn't possibly think Konoha wouldn't go after her, so why...?

"We did our homework better this time," he said, almost sadly, as though he felt sorry for her. "You just behave and nothing bad will happen, little girl."

And there it was, the answer, one that made everything worse.

'_This time_'.

Karma swallowed, her mouth like a barren land. Suddenly, the world around her seemed like a genjutsu broken by the errant current of her chakra. Ten years of strength and confidence melted away, and an old fear emerged from underneath the illusion.

"You. You hired the Sonzaina all those years ago."

The man laughed, rueful and sheepish and the very image of self-deprecation. His smile made it creepy, a chord of dissonance. "Cle~ver. But then, I did dangle the hint in front of your nose, so it would have been disappointing if you didn't connect the picture."

There was cold anger in his eyes as he kneeled in front of her, taking a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back. Karma's neck gave an alarming _crack_.

"We invested too much into this, and so we waited and bided our time. Not everyone benefits from the end of warfare. We hired mercenaries, rogue ninja, everyone who was desperate enough. Most died but some survived, and enough of them told us about your abilities. It would have been so much cleverer to kill everyone, but your clan has always been complacent like that. _Always_ thinking you're so perfectly safe behind your wards."

He spoke gently, in a contrast to the painful grip in her hair. He was trying to affect her, Karma realised, to scare her into obedience. The creepy facade was just that. Karma took a deep breath, but the familiar cold clarity wouldn't come.

"It's been expensive," he continued and smiled, looking like the perfect image of a friendly elderly uncle. "Hiring all those people and then buying this chakra absorbing metal to counter your ability. Imported from across the sea, even. You're a big investment."

It was demeaning, having this man treat her like property. And Karma was unable to retaliate because she was trapped, _trapped_, and in real danger of dying.

She wasn't sure what this man was _thinking_, and she needed to fish for that last piece of information. No matter what these people thought, they knew so very little. The very metal that chafed at her wrists was the proof. What use would she possibly be, if she was a tree?

"How did you catch me?"

The man grinned and patted her head as if it was a reward. "Isn't _that _the question? Smart girl you are, after all, because that one is the answer to more than one mystery." There was a sense of melodrama in his tone now, as might be found in the speech of a zealot or a showman.

He let Karma's head drop, and her jaw hit the ground painfully. The impact made her see brief white sparks.

Then, there was no air. Or rather, there was, but she couldn't _breathe_. Karma choked, as if drowning on dry land, gasping and coughing -

- and it ended as suddenly as it had started. Karma drew in desperate gulps of air. She was dizzy, disoriented. Black spots danced in her eyes.

"See?" the man whispered proudly. "Isn't it an amazing power? Even the strongest people need to breathe."

"...You control the air, then," Karma said, realisation settling in. "Or, more precisely, oxygen in the air?"

"Exactly, you good girl! However, there is a little drawback," her captor said and sighed regretfully. "It uses up chakra like you wouldn't believe. That demonstration alone was quite taxing."

"So, you want our blood limit to be able to use your own as you see fit," Karma said. The tone of her voice could be summed up as 'are you _serious_'.

"Do you really think it would work? You have no idea about how our power functions."

The man's face twisted in anger.

"Shut up! We should be _up there _with the Senju and Uchiha, known and respected by everyone," he hissed. "We shouldn't have to hide and cower from you, or beg to join their village! They should have come to us! If we can just get more _chakra_, this power can rule the continent!"

So, this was who her captors were, Karma thought numbly, as the man stomped away in a huff. Powerful and intelligent, but also arrogant and quick to make assumptions, too caught up in their own cleverness.

Not a good combination, for anyone involved. That kind of thing had also gotten her in this mess, after all.

And...

What should she do? That calculating part of her that was distant and cold and helped her hide her emotions had been thrown off track by fear and lingering confusion. It was difficult to think.

Karma might be able to escape. Some chance would present itself, if given time. Even though the blind panic had faded, she was still wretchedly afraid, skin shivering with goose bumps and heart an erratic beat in her throat. There were things only desperate people were capable of.

But if she somehow managed to kill these people here and now, the rest of them would just hide away before her clan could track them down. They'd done that once already. There was a good chance they were prepared to cut off these people around her, too, like a lizard that drops its tail to fool the predator.

Should she stay put, then, and follow this to the source?

They couldn't know about the observatory. Her clan would find her, no matter what. As long as these people had no reason to believe they were in immediate danger, there was a window of opportunity.

And a certain jutsu, if she was desperate enough.

Chakra was the key. She didn't know how fast the metal drained her, but that critical point of no return would happen. She'd been stripped of her possessions, so her chakra store was -

- still there.

She was on a _covert_ mission. There was no obvious sign that the store was what it was.

Karma almost wanted to smack her head against the ground in exasperation.

She still had her leg pouch, the one she'd worn since leaving her home. It felt empty, squished between her thigh and the ground, but that didn't matter. The chakra itself was compressed in a seal, and would trickle in once her levels dropped low enough. It wouldn't be enough if she couldn't get her hands free and activate it properly, but Karma had more time than she'd thought.

At least, she wouldn't die so soon. She could endure imprisonment for a while.

(How long? _How long_?)

This had to end, or her clan could never live in peace again.

(She had less than noble motives too, buried deep in a mental vault. There was cruel hate, hate born out of fear. She wanted them dead, dead, _dead_, properly and truly dead for doing this to her.)

* * *

It didn't take too long for Karma's absence to be noticed.

Dakini was the one who found the symbols. They looked much like meaningless squiggles to any outsider, and had probably been overlooked for that. But Dakini saw Sanskrit, and read the letters thus:

'Ambush, no air'

Dakini stood up, lips pursed and eyes like sharp knives. Anger and outrage were slow to wake, and potent. She might have been happy-go-lucky and mischievous for the most part, but there was a core of steel inside.

Dakini didn't want much, nor did she have complicated goals. She wanted to eat whatever she fancied and she wanted to play. And when that was done with, she wanted to live in a relaxed, leisurely manner. She'd worked, worked, worked all her life, worked until she _died_, and in comparison to that, this was a land of dreams. Free of hunger, toil and trouble.

(Well, mostly.)

Karma, her best friend and her kin, was also something new and precious. Dakini had never had a friend before; her past life hadn't given her that opportunity.

These people? They were _dead_. Dead men walking, if she had to kill all of them with her bare hands.

Dakini stormed towards Hashirama's tent, and her wrath burned like dragonfire. Everyone in her way prudently relocated, before she could stomp over them.

That Hashirama guy was going to get a piece of her mind, and it would not be pleasant.

* * *

"So. What are you going to do about this, Hashirama-san?"

For several seconds, tendrils of panic tried to grab hold of Hashirama. The furious glint in the green eyes of Miss Dakini promised swift retribution and _consequences_ if he did not put every effort into finding Karma _yesterday_. This would be a catastrophe unless -

_No. Wrong way of thinking._

He had been a war leader, once. Even in the worst moments, a chance had to lurk somewhere.

Perhaps, this was an opportunity. A way to show that he would do everything in his power to protect his allies, and by extension, his villagers.

And, surely Satoshi would not cut the relations so easily either. If he played his cards right.

"Tobirama, could you send for the heads of the Hyuuga and the Inuzuka? I need to find Madara. He saw her last."

"I'm coming with," Dakini declared imperiously. "I need to go tell the workers what's what. I'm probably in charge without Karma, since they're more or less civilian. Can't just leave them here without orders."

As it soon turned out, no one had seen Karma, and her scent trail quickly disappeared into the ether. The Hyuuga were able to confirm that she was not in the village either. (The distinctive green chakra of the Samsara was apparently hard to miss.)

However, it was an Aburame who noted that the Oboreshi seemed to be missing as well. Hashirama remembered the man, from that ridiculous incident all those weeks ago. (His name was Eiji, and it had taken half an hour to talk him out of his passive-aggressive wrath.)

"Are you certain?"

Eiji nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. "My kikaichu tell me that the trail is hours old. The timing matches. It is too convenient to be a mere coincidence."

Hashirama had to concur. They had a lead. Now, they just had to follow.

* * *

_Tip, tip, tip_

Karma watched as drops of water pattered on the stone floor. It wasn't quite a puddle yet, but there was _potential_. In a few hours, there might be proper little rings to spread outwards. She was almost looking forward to it.

There was a window in the small stone-carved room that was her cell, iron bars wedged across it and open to the elements. It was far too high up for her to see much beyond clouds and stars.

But an open sky was a welcome sight, too.

Maybe her clan was watching her through it. She wouldn't know. Just in case, she made sure to always be in clear view, even if the draft made her nose runny and prone to sneezing.

It wasn't as though there was much else she could do.

Karma hoisted herself up, cracking her shoulders. It was the second day now, and she was _bored_. And this was a boredom that meant business, the kind of endless wretched frustration that slowly grinds your brain into grey porridge.

She gritted her teeth together, the beat of her pulse loud in her ears. Two days in, and her palms still sweated and her head was light with terror.

A bizarre thing, that, the unholy marriage of fear and boredom.

(_why fear, when you can have peace? just let go and_)

The rattling sound of keys told her she was about to get company. Karma wiped all emotion from her face, like cleaning a billboard.

A woman stepped in, an ever present look of contempt on her face. Her name was Kiku, and she would have been pretty if not for the way she looked down her nose at everything. Still, there was also something fragile about her, hidden under layers of scorn.

It was the second day now, and sometimes there was a glint of fear in the corner of Kiku's eyes. Karma had to wonder how many of the Oboreshi were in agreement with this plan, and if Kiku would have bailed if she could.

Kiku scoffed.

"Still thinking someone will come and save you? Oh dear, how sad. Don't you know that no one cares? We have been keeping an eye on Konoha, and no one bothered to try follow after you."

Karma ignored her and stared at the cracks in the ceiling.

(_death isn't scary, come over, just fall asleep_)

What did these people know, if they thought they could drive a wedge between her and her clan?

The Samsara were all strangers from the same land, thrown together in this new world.

It was the nature of people to think of others in terms of 'us' and 'them'. A dangerous tendency for sure, so much misery had grown from such seeds.

But it also meant that she was precious to her people, even if she could count her friends with the fingers of one hand. Karma was an important link to that untouchable and distant other world, their first precious land, now alive only in memories.

It was the second day now, and -

- and she had begun to feel that other hunger. The empty one, which did not gnaw at her insides but at her spirit. She felt the presence of the river too, always, and the icy, foul taint of it.

And a voice in her head.

(_is it so bad? death isn't something to fear, you know as much_)

She knew the theory, had learned it long ago in the mists of her second childhood. Tonight, for the first time, she would experience it - would fall asleep and fear that she would not wake in the morning.

Karma turned to face Kiku and watched her gather up the plates of untouched food Karma had abandoned in the corner.

What did Kiku fear?

"What do you think of the plan? Do you really believe you can use me?"

Kiku froze, her face like a white Noh-mask. A familiar look, in a distant sort of way. (After all, it was a rare occasion one saw their own face.)

"The clan head knows what he's doing," she said with a stiff voice. Karma wasn't fooled. The way she mechanically parroted the words - Kiku thought otherwise, but couldn't or wouldn't say as much. Loyalty had long become chains of steel, chafing and cold and unyielding.

"I see," Karma said, and let her voice deflate. Kiku flinched, and opened her mouth.

"I..."

The sound of footsteps carried in through the hallway and the moment was lost, a leaf in the wind. Curtains were drawn behind Kiku's eyes, and she marched out of the room without another word.

Karma sighed, and lay down. It was the second day, and she wondered how long she would last.

* * *

To say Madara was in a bad mood would have been an understatement, much like calling him 'quite powerful' or 'mildly unpleasant'.

By now, his glare could have driven nails through wood. Rage burned in his blood, as though it was lava and he was a volcano ready to erupt. Everyone around him had long since gifted him with a personal hazard zone, on some sort of wordless telepathic agreement.

He didn't care. It was strange, how Karma's presence had been so soothing, and her absence like wind to fire, causing a conflagration. No one else mattered right now, not his best friend and his best friend's asshole of a brother, not the woman who was _Karma's_ best friend, not the Hyuuga or the Inuzuka or the Aburame who had been brought along to track her.

_I'm alive_, she had said that day and smiled, and raindrops had crowned her with a halo. The memory was usually crystal clear, as if seen through Sharingan.

And now, it was shrouded and distant.

The night before she had been kidnapped, he had taken a risk. Something new had stirred inside of him, and he had wanted to see what it was, what kind of tree would grow from that fragile fledgling part of him.

And so, how dare they? How _dare _someone take her, just when he had decided that she might be worthwhile?

For years and years, he had existed in that haze of war where a sense of spilled blood was over the earth like a thin scarlet mist. Everything beautiful rusted and rotted, until there was nothing but decay. Rotting world, rotting feelings, rotting ideals.

He had lost the sight of everything precious, save for Izuna. And then, his brother had been lost as well.

What would have happened, if he had not thought to step back from that despair? He could already sense the edge of that abyss, teetering close, now that he was furious again.

What had started with Hashirama, had ended with Karma. Or, at least, she had been another step on that better path.

But no. Karma was alive. And he would get her back.

Madara clenched his fingers. Nails broke through his skin, leaving crescent-shaped cuts on his palms.

* * *

It was the second day, still, and the air all but vibrated with tension.

Hashirama blamed himself, something about Tobirama's expression suggested he was cursing at everything and everyone inside his head and Madara was about two steps from blowing up. Shitasaki, usually so cheerful, only spoke to her canine partner. Hakkou had withdrawn into some kind of a stiff Hyuuga trance; it was even better than Karma's poker face. Eiji's presence was so diminutive he tended to disappear into the background.

Dakini wasn't feeling very charitable either.

She didn't doubt the resolve of everyone around her but they just weren't her clan, and didn't understand how much was at stake here.

For all Dakini loved Karma, very likely more than anyone else did in this world, this was also about their clan and their secrets. What would happen, if the world came to understand their true nature?

She wanted her clan. They would make everything better.

A shadow flew over them, as though in answer. Dakini glanced up and stopped in her tracks.

In that instant her mood lifted and she discarded her worry and fear like a snake that sheds an old skin.

There were giant crows in the sky, circling each other as they prepared to land.

* * *

"Hm, hello," said the military commander as he sauntered towards Dakini's little group, hands in his pockets. Despite his familiar slouch, there was a tense energy to his person. Behind him, Dakini saw other familiar faces. About three or four dozen people, all of them dressed in heavy combat gear. Most even wore armour, a rarity if she'd ever seen one.

All of them were well over forty years old, and had long since retired from active service. The implication was a little chilling, if not for the fact that they had to have volunteered. A sacrifice was not something their clan would have _ordered_.

"We've followed your track, and found Karma by extrapolating," the military commander continued. "They're about six hours away from here, top speed. You'd have already found them if they hadn't taken such care to lay false trails. Before we go in, I need to have you all debriefed, because this will be war. Hm."

"War?" Hashirama said, in a voice that was almost a sigh, as though he had gotten what he had expected but not what he had hoped for. "Do you really have to go that far?"

"Do you still intend to have the Oboreshi live in Konoha, after this?"

Hashirama grimaced. "No, that isn't the problem. I just abhor war."

"The Oboreshi are not just any threat," the military commander said, shaking his head. There was something lazy about it, like a lion resting in savannah. "I don't believe they were hired by anyone, unlike the Sonzaina. What could any clan offer, that they would forsake the protection of _Konoha_? Another point is Karma's behaviour. We watched her, to see if she was doing all right, and there was something about her mannerisms that suggested she was staying put on purpose."

"_Watched_? How could you see her?" Tobirama snapped, the edges of the question like razor wire. He tended to be prickly even on a good day, but right now he could have given a sea urchin a run of its money. "And why is her staying still important?"

"You don't know Karma," said Dakini, sniffing in a stiff-necked regal manner that suggested all sorts of impolite opinions over what she considered irrelevant questions.

(Consequently, she also ignored his other questions. No one missed the implication, but it wasn't the time for that discussion.)

"Of course you don't, since you two avoided each other all this time like idiots. She'd never stand for imprisonment. If she hasn't even _tried _to escape, then it means only one thing."

"Indeed," said the military commander. "I would not say I am that close to Karma, but even I know as much. She at least _believes_ this to be our old enemy. Not that it changes the result. We will go and slaughter. Now, Hashirama-san, what will you do?"

He spoke in a light voice, as though he had asked if the others wanted to join him for a lunch, and the question still seemed to weigh the world. On pure instinct, everyone glanced at Hashirama. The air was solid enough with implications and subtle nuances that you could probably have cut it with a knife.

"...We're coming," he said, voice like taut ninja wire. "I don't want war, but I was entrusted with Karma's safety. I don't want this incident to become a stain in our relations."

The military commander inclined his head. He didn't seem all that surprised. "I see. Very well. But if you intend to take part, I will have to ask you to follow my decisions. I have a strategy which relies on a certain set of circumstances."

Hashirama slapped his hand against Tobirama's mouth, and whatever he had wanted to say was reduced to an angry grunt. "That's fine."

"Good. Now, for the first part of the operation you Konohan people need to stay hidden. We must not startle the enemy into fleeing too quickly, and the sight of you could cause blind panic. Assuming they expect us, we cannot rely on our distance formation. Karma's handcuffs don't actually restrict her hands enough to prevent her from making seals, and _no one _is dumb enough to make that kind of mistake. I think that they may have chakra absorbing metal. If that is the case, we are already at a big disadvantage - we aren't used to direct warfare. Do they have a blood limit, Hashirama-san?"

"I... am not sure," Hashirama said, frowning in a manner that suggested he was double-checking the dusty corners of his memory. "I don't think it ever came up. Which is very telling in hindsight, but there you have it."

"Karma's message said 'no air'," Dakini piped in. "That sounds about right, no?"

"Most likely," agreed the military commander. "A secret technique or a blood limit, if they have one, it'll have to be countered. There is a certain jutsu I know, but I don't have the chakra to maintain it for long."

Hashirama raised his hand. "I'll lend you mine. I have the highest reserves of us all. But if they happen have chakra absorbing armour too..."

"I highly doubt they have fortified the soles of their feet, if that is the case. Hm. Madara-san, when you have a visual range, could you find out the way their chakra runs, if they do have a blood limit?"

Madara gave a jerky nod, and the set of his posture suggested that if they were not going to attack _yesterday_, he'd go ahead and summon some well-deserved meteors on the village ahead. Dakini suspected that Karma's situation was the only thing restraining him. It was the kind of thought best discarded, in her opinion. At least his rage was not directed at her.

"Then, we are done. You might as well start the distraction. Surviving will be up to you," he said, addressing his kin, and there was something cold and angry in his eyes. "Thank you for taking the risk. We will remember that you lived."

There were grins and jovial shrugs. No one seemed bothered by the thought that they might not live to see the sunset.

"Hey, no one lives forever," said a cheerful man with thinning brown hair and a bulbous nose. "And there's no need to fear death. We got some good years from the clan, it's fine to do this and make sure none of our younglings will be disappearing in the future."

The military commander nodded, appearing to consider the words as pearls of wisdom.

"Well said. It's been ten years, about time we _end_ this."

* * *

Three days. She'd been captured for three days, and the walls of her prison seemed as if they were about to cave in and bury her alive.

To her eternal relief, the original designer had considered situations where she might not be able to touch the seal. During the night, some inbuilt autonomous safety switch had triggered and Karma had woken up feeling a little less like she might expire any moment.

But the mechanical parts of the seal clearly hadn't been designed with a second source of drain in mind. She was still near the final curtains, peering into the backstage. By now her skin was probably something of a death trap for anyone dumb enough to touch her.

Still, it was the reality of her cage that chafed at her.

Karma ground her teeth together, almost relishing in the nauseating high-pitched crating sound that vibrated through her jaw.

Chakra would last longer than her nerves, and already she was getting closer to doing something reckless, whether her clan came for her or not. She could not wait for much longer.

Karma was so lost in her own mind that she dismissed the first explosion as just another hallucination.

The second one made her jump. Dull fear was washed away, and it was like waking up from a long dream.

They were _here_, her clan, her kin.

She'd known they would come, but the reality of it was so much better than any theoretical certainty. They hadn't abandoned her.

Karma stumbled up on her feet. The only good thing about the long wait was that the sedative had long since worn off, and she was mostly in control of her own body again.

Now, she would do her best to escape. There was no way she would sit down and wait for someone to pick her up.

She slid her arms down inch by inch, bending forward and grouching to get the metal of the handcuffs slide over her butt. The chain slipped past, resting snug against the back of her knees. Karma sat down and rolled back, pulling her knees tight against her chest. It was painful but, with careful manoeuvring, her feet also managed to get through the tiny loop.

Her hands were in front of her, now. Karma took a deep breath. This was where fear would help her the most.

_Remember the hospital, remember wanting to get up and walk away, to jump and run, that time was so long ago and you swore you'd never - _

Karma bent her right thumb back at an unnatural angle and _stomped_.

_Crack_

Her joint dislocated with a sickening crunch. Tears of pain escaped her eyes and trailed down her cheeks, leaving behind a clear path on her dusty skin. There was no rush of battle to take her mind off the agony. As an afterthought, she realised she had bitten on her tongue. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

As carefully as she could, Karma wriggled the metal off her hand. It was still a tight fit, and pain throbbed up her arm like a tongue of fire.

One left.

The second one was both harder and easier, because she had a measure of the pain now, but also had to work with an injured hand. She gathered up some fabric of her shirt, stuffed it in her mouth and bit down as hard as she could. Then -

_Stomp_

_Crack_

Karma only barely managed to muffle her scream.

As she slipped the handcuffs in her pocket, hurried steps echoed in the hallway outside her cell.

Well. That had been good timing on her part.

Karma grinned. It wasn't a particularly nice grin.

"...Bloody insane fuckers, attacking even though we have a hostage," drifted in the sound of frantic muttering. Karma recognised the voice. It was Kiku.

Since that time she had almost slipped something, Kiku had taken care not to show anything but exaggerated contempt towards their captive. The _last_ time Karma had seen her, Kiku had told her that no one would want to rescue such an ugly, boring bitch as Karma.

Oh, the irony.

The door slung open.

"Hey, where - "

Karma tackled Kiku without a second thought.

There had been a point to all those grappling lessons, after all, Karma thought as she twisted Kiku in a headlock and jammed her own palm in her warden's mouth to prevent her from screaming for help. Kiku bit down and her teeth drew blood, but Karma barely felt that through the agony that were her joints.

It didn't really matter in the end. Three days of steady chakra exhaustion had, indeed, made Karma's skin a veritable death sentence.

Chakra surged, faster than ever and better than ambrosia. It was life, _life _in her veins, and the whisper of the icy cold river faded. Karma didn't even really notice the desperate struggle of her victim, before Kiku went limp in her arms.

(And why should she, when she was alive and the world was bright and real again.)

When no traces of chakra were left, the spell broke. Karma dropped the corpse, stepped back and stared, face unreadable and a faint sense of illness in her stomach.

Unbidden, a certain memory surfaced. For the first time in years she remembered what it had been like to kill before she had hardened her heart, in that desperate effort to keep herself alive and free.

These last few days seemed insistent that she remember things she had long forgotten.

She hadn't liked Kiku, but...

Obnoxious and irritating, Kiku had also been afraid and hid it all under layers and layers.

Karma had never found out if she had even wanted to be part of her clan's plans. Had Kiku believed in them at first and regretted them later, or had she been against the decisions all along, not important enough to have her voice heard?

Now, Kiku would never move again and Karma would remain ignorant.

* * *

The Oboreshi had not built a village so much as taken residence in what looked like old ruins where stone buildings sprawled on top of each other. Most of them stood upright, but several looked like they were one sneeze away from crumbling down. Vines and weeds were running a slow conquest on every available surface.

The surrounding terrain wasn't welcoming. Rocks stuck through the ground like the fangs of some massive long dead predators. They also provided good cover. Dakini, the military commander and their Konohan allies were hidden amongst them, watching the events.

The war had begun.

Or, rather, the war had locked up in a standstill.

From distance, the would-be conflict at the edge of the village looked almost comical. The initial explosives had gone off and torn up quite a bit of the edge, leaving smoking heaps of rubble behind.

The actual attack had not been as dramatic. Neither side had yet to make true contact with the other, as the Samsara could not get through the chakra absorbing armour and the Oboreshi did not seem to have the range to suffocate them all at once.

Whenever someone did venture closer, they collapsed down in a fit of coughs and had to be dragged away by their comrades. Whenever the Oboreshi tried ninjutsu, it was negated.

It was a standstill with heavy promise, like a dam about to burst and flood the world.

"Lungs," Madara said, eyes spinning red as he tracked the path of the chakra. "The chakra is concentrated in the lungs. Goes through the fifth chakra gate."

"Good. That is all I need to know," the military commander said and placed a contraption with several circular lenses against his left eye.

"Hashirama-san, if you would?"

Hashirama nodded and placed his hands against the military commander's back. His face was closed off, but there was a glint of steel in his eyes.

"Asphodel Meadows," the military commander said, making a rapid sequence of seals and slapped his hands against the ground. Behind him, Hashirama winced as chakra was drained out of his system.

Ahead of them, thin _thin_ tendrils of green chakra erupted from the ground. In seconds, an unnatural grassland spread further than their eyes could see (except Hakkou, who could see just about everywhere).

"What does it do?" Tobirama asked. There was a petulant 'since I'm apparently only here to be decoration' in his tone.

"Hmm? Oh, it disrupts the chakra system. But only for that particular technique. It's also not very effective for actually absorbing chakra and therefore a costly thing to keep up."

He grinned. There was something dark and satisfied in his eyes. "Most of our clan consider this technique useless, because we have always been able to just drain everything. Heh. But it paid off to learn, after all."

And, on quite the clear cue, the battle finally escalated. Whatever words had been said earlier, at its core this was not a conflict borne of anything so distant and clinical as 'duty' or even 'mission', there was raw and furious intent like a sudden flood. The Samsara loved their own, and the other side of that coin was that they rarely cared for any others.

Neither side bothered to play nice, now that they had stopped testing waters. Blood was spilt and bones shattered, every hit aimed to slay.

However, the Samsara were still outnumbered.

As they watched, the man who had so glibly accepted the possibility of his own death was skewered by a katana. He was the first to die, his dying wood trapping the blade in an eternal embrace. He was not the last.

Soon, several new trees grew in the valley of the ruins.

* * *

Karma had never seen much of the village of the Oboreshi. Despite all their confident posturing in front of Karma, her captors had moved with an impression of 'let's not bloody fuck this up' and she had been all but dragged through the winding streets in their haste to get her to what passed for the local stoney lonesome. From her brief impression, the village had been nothing but rock and creeping plants.

Now she was finally out, and what she saw was familiar green chakra and distant smoke.

Karma hesitated for a moment, then jumped down the window of her cell and landed as though on feathers. With her recently acquired chakra, she'd been able to pry out the metal bars; the iron wouldn't bend, but the stone around it crumbled like loose earth.

The 'chakra grass' wrapped around her ankles and pushed through the soles of her feet, but the sensation was gentle and almost welcoming. There was a hint of something languid in it, like the slowly dripping sap of a tree.

(The military commander...?)

Well, he must have his reasons for this thing. Karma had long since learned that there were depths to him she'd never know, much like had been the case with Seichu.

Her mood lifting, Karma took to a jog. Her best bet was to head towards the pillars of smoke, and to try to keep out of sight.

The weakness of that plan was that Karma simply was not a spy or an assassin. She was built for speed and flexibility, and trained for open combat. Aggression, not stealth. Her clan rarely had to get up close and personal, but when they did, they were about as subtle as a hammer. Civilians, she could have fooled with her hands tied behind her back. But this was a ninja village.

Due to the general chaos, she still made it to the outskirts of the village before she was spotted.

On pure instinct, born of years and years of practise and sparring, Karma deflected the strike aimed at her head, twisting and grabbing hold of the wrist of her assailant. Just as fast, the person in question wrenched his arm and she lost contact.

She jumped back, to see what she was up against, unnerved by the speed of whoever had attacked her.

In front of her stood two men, tall and muscular. One had silvery hair, the other one golden. Karma blinked, as her brain made the connection. There were no whiskers, but... no mistake.

_Oh, shit. _

"Heh, look Ginkaku. It's her."

"So it is, Kinkaku. That blood limit sure is something."

"That it is. I lost quite the chunk there."

"Should be fun to take on her."

"Very much. To think there was so much fun to be had even with the end of the war."

...These people had been part of the story, hadn't they? She remembered as easily as always, as though her memory was some sort of a database. The brothers had once cemented the poor relations of Kumo and Konoha by attacking Tobirama, and had obtained a portion of the nine-tailed fox's chakra. Whichever had happened first.

Huh.

This was... not good. If they had been sent to capture the fox (Kurama, his name was _Kurama_), they had had to be strong to begin with. Which probably meant a lot of chakra.

While it was said that the drain worked faster on those with large reserves, that was true only up to a certain point. The efficiency was more of a parabolic curve, where the people with the largest reserves began to have longer and longer windows of opportunity to retaliate.

Where, in that curve, did these two stand? Kinkaku was examining the hand she had grabbed, honest curiosity on his face. He didn't seem terribly worried, even though she had to have stolen a large portion of chakra.

And why were they here? Even these two wouldn't last against the finest of Konoha.

...Perhaps, they were meant to be a bait. The old school ninja world still held on, and the Oboreshi had proven their credentials when it came to throwing their allies under the bus.

Speaking of underhanded methods, she really had to get away. As much as she hated the thought, she was a central piece in this conflict now, and this was bound to draw attention.

And, as if on cue, more people materialised from the shadows. A tightening ring formed around her, sunlight glinting off the surface of weapons.

Most of them were Oboreshi, if that armour was any indication. Unlike many other clans, they didn't seem to have much in the way of distinguishing features. If this had still been a black and white manga or a low budget animation, they would probably have been found amongst the barely drawn faces of anonymous people in crowd shots.

Still, there was not much point. She couldn't have taken on either of the brothers, never mind this crowd. It was hopeless, like all those years ago, and there was no one (_Seichu_) for her to lean on.

She had half expected the dawning fear to hinder her, to cloud her mind with despair. That was not what happened.

What surfaced was the cold clarity. It was both familiar and not, because in the ten years she had tried to cultivate and draw it out, she had never quite managed this sharpness.

And now, now she knew what to do with it. The situation was simple, in its way.

Karma did not want to die, or be used as a hostage. She also stood no chance.

But there was an option, the last one, the dangerous one.

With that choice, she would have to take a gamble. Life or death, both were possible.

And... how much chakra did she have?

Karma smiled, and there was a world of evil in the curve of her lips.

Karma's hands bent into a sequence of seals she had only ever practised without chakra. There was something oddly liberating about it, like letting go and enjoying the freefall. She hesitated, for a fraction of a second, then flung her fingers open in a semblance of wings. The seal of the peacock.

In front of her, Ginkaku and Kinkaku seemingly had an entire conversation with nothing but alarmed eyebrows and both rushed forward in perfect sync. They had every reason to worry, there was rarely anything good about unusual hand seals.

Too late.

"Come, Shinigami!"

And then, death emerged.

The spectral form of the god of death tore its way through her gate and out of her back. It brought with it the wind of the underworld, a frost that was like needles, spreading through her blood.

Karma locked her jaw down, trying to wrangle control. The Shinigami did not want to obey her, and strained against the shackles of chakra that bound it to her will. The struggle could have taken only seconds, but time stretched and there was an eternity in every moment.

Her and death, opponents locked in a precarious stalemate. The conflict that had stretched throughout the years of her life, a morbid sort of tug-of-war, was now taking place in person. She could feel its desire to claim her, an inhuman resentment that lacked the burning hate of the living. Death was impersonal, and knew only duty.

But she wanted to live.

Karma bit her lip, and the warmth of her blood broke the spell of cold. With iron determination, she forced her will into the chains that shackled death. The Shinigami was stronger, _so much _stronger, but it was bound by rules and she was an anomaly. Her clan held influence over life and death, those two sides of a same coin.

Karma opened her eyes. They shone with the light of the underworld, and for the first time she saw through her own glow. The world was sickly green, and lit by lights like lanterns.

(The souls of the people...?)

_Go. Kill. _

Around her, space-time bent and broke.

And then, there was the sound of a wheel.

* * *

"I see her!" said the urgent voice of Hyuuga Hakkou, veins swollen around ghastly white eyes. "Karma-san is heading this way!"

In an instant, he was the centre of attention.

"Where?" Madara snapped. He felt just about ready to shake Hakkou, and barely remembered it would do no good.

"She's... ah, wait. She's run into enemies. She's surrounded."

"Sur- What is she doing now?" asked Dakini in a voice that suggested she already knew but was hoping to be proven wrong.

"Hand seals. ...I haven't seen _that_ one - "

"You wouldn't. It doesn't do anything for anyone else but us," Dakini replied, her tone desolate. She pressed a hand against her face and the commander sent her a pitying look. "I was afraid it'd come to this."

No one had time to ask for clarification before it happened. A ghoulish form rose to the sky, its ragged white hair and tattered robes floating as though submerged in water.

Madara stared, and his eyes bled into crimson almost without a conscious thought.

"What _is_ that?" asked Tobirama, alarm clear on his face, the question as sharp as the slash of a knife.

"That is the _greatest_ ability of our clan," Dakini said, her tone bitter and a little mocking. "_Rinne Saisei no Jutsu_, a forbidden technique that summons the Shinigami. Any soul caught in it will be forced to enter the cycle of reincarnation and is lost forever. I guess you could call it the ultimate death."

"'The Wheel of Rebirth technique'?" Tobirama said in a tone that suggested Dakini had just about claimed that the earth was flat and made of pancake. "But, such a thing..."

As he said the words, tendrils of chakra burst forth and pierced the air. Cracks spread as though it was glass.

Then, there was a sound. And yet, it wasn't.

Few in that place knew about the technique, fewer yet had ever seen it, but even those who don't know why or how the moon hides the sun during an eclipse can appreciate the sheer scale of the event.

For now, a part of the machinery of the universe could be perceived, a glimpse into the true abyss beyond the veil of the mortal realm.

And, as the entity swept along the battlefield, pearly white forms drifted higher, disappearing into the fractured sky.

Madara stood, almost rooted to the spot and unable to tear his eyes away. His Sharingan spun like a roulette wheel. He could almost _see_ through those cracks -

He'd bent space-time himself on occasion, and knew the theory behind Izanagi. But there was something overwhelming about this casual display of power, this technique to uproot every last inch of an enemy's existence. There were lacerations in the _framework of the universe_.

His heart beat in his chest, impossibly fast. Something squirmed in his entrails, as though he had swallowed moths.

This was...

The pained noise Dakini made drew him back to reality.

"Is there something wrong?" Hashirama asked, looking like he had been about to move and only just remembered not to. "You seem..."

"I _did_ say it was a kinjutsu," Dakini replied tartly, bangs hanging over her eyes. "The chakra cost alone can be deadly."

Right then, the entity wavered in the air, halting its constant assault. As though a machine in desperate need of oiling, it turned around, jerking and twitching.

And lifted the blade, ready to plunge it down at the one controlling it.

Before it could, something snapped. The Shinigami dissolved, leaving only fading shrouds of mist behind, and the cracks in space-time mended like they had never been there at all. The sound of the wheel grew muffled and disappeared behind a curtain.

"...She must have run out of chakra," Dakini said and sent a beseeching look at the military commander. His fingers, still maintaining the technique, had sunk into the ground, but his face remained steady and unmoved. "You _gotta_ let me go get her, commander. She'll die!"

Madara's blood ran cold. Several half-formed thoughts and feelings ran through him and disappeared in the ether, leaving little but impressions behind. But one remained.

_No. She can't die. _

"Fine, Dakini, you can - "

"I'll go."

"Wha - Wait, Madara-san!"

Madara didn't listen. He was already halfway to the village proper. The military commander sighed.

"...Ah. That's no good. There's a reason I didn't want you outsiders going in. He'll be in range."

"In range of what?" asked Hashirama.

"Hm, let me say it this way. _How_ much chakra, exactly, does Madara-san have?"

* * *

Karma could no longer feel anything beyond the freezing, foul cold. She had let go of the Shinigami at the first warning throb of fading chakra, but it didn't really matter.

At least she had gotten to one of the brothers. Probably. She had made a difference, even if it was a tiny thing.

It would have been good to apologise for getting caught and dying, though. She had promised Satoshi she would return. Dakini and mother would cry. If only there was chakra left, any chakra at all... but no. That was a useless thought.

When death came for you, it did not do to dwell on the land of the living. A shame, but she would head for her next adventure, now.

_Sorry, Dakini. _

At that thought, the river changed. The cold abated and lost its grip, defeated by a spring that always thaws the shackles of winter.

Slowly, her self-awareness slipped away. Complex thoughts were not needed in death, and the warmth made her drowsy. It would be good to nap, and maybe wake up later, see what the universe had in store for her.

There was no need to hurry in death, either. After the initial rush, everything had a sluggish pace. She drifted off, dreaming a vague dream of roses and sunshine.

For those reasons, it took her a while to notice the change.

The warmth, so comforting just before, was now sticky and black and suffocating.

_...Is that tar...? Why tar...?_

There was a sudden sense of urgency. With considerable strain, her mind folded itself back to the full clarity of life.

There was chakra in her system, and it was drawing her back. Far fouler than the river, this particular chakra felt like it was painting her insides black and would never come off, no matter how she might scrub.

Karma opened her eyes to smoke and ruin. She was being carried, held against a strong chest. The coppery metal armour he wore pressed against her arm in a manner that promised bruises hours later. She could see pale skin and long black hair against the sky.

"Madara?"

* * *

As soon as Madara leaped past the first crumbling building, he felt the drain. It was like something was trying to rip him apart, but only succeeded in grasping his chakra. Not physical, there was no tearing wind, but he still felt the loss like a wound.

And, as it was, the sensation was clearest when he was in the air - the instant he stepped on rock, green grass wrapped around him and muffled his internal senses.

'For suppressing the blood limit', the military commander had said. Yeah, right. The man was clearly more crooked than a bent nail.

Still. Madara would not hesitate. So many times, he had failed and regretted. Karma would not be the same. He wanted to talk to her again, and see the subtle beauty of the world the way she did. And to ask her about that power, what it was like bending the rules of the universe, how it worked.

In the back of his mind, he imagined her face. A wry smile, as though mocking that he was so impressed because _of course she could do such a thing. What was death to her clan, after all? _

Madara didn't bother to notice anyone in his way. Not that there were many of those, most people took one look at him and scampered to get as far away as they could. There were corpses, too, here and there on the ground, and some of them had probably been drained of chakra rather than killed by the entity. But there was a definite gradient, and he followed it.

And then, with a shock of electricity down his spine, he saw her. Crumpled on the ground, her black hair scattered on the stones and hiding her face like a veil. There were weapons sticking from her flesh, kunai and senbon and shuriken, from the many attempts to kill her to get rid of the deadly kinjutsu.

Madara landed next to her with the grace of a cat, braced a hand on her back and started to pull them out. A morbid job, because normally this was done for corpses. A living person would remove them on their own, or they were better left off in the flesh to keep the blood and entrails where they were supposed to be.

The instant Madara touched her, he winced. Chakra was ripped from him, to the point where it stung. It was always dangerous to touch the skin of a chakra absorber, and not something to be done carelessly. But he had prepared for this, hoped for it even. The wounds left in her body were already stitching together, and it meant there were still threads left of her life.

As soon as the most obvious injuries had healed, Madara picked her up and turned back. He didn't care for anyone else than her to have his chakra, but had no means of stopping the technique when he was in the middle of it. Her warmth and weight were reassuring, as was the subtle pulse of her neck and warm draft of air against his jaw.

And then, just before the edge of the village, she stirred.

"Madara?"

Rough voice, as though she had just woken up from a nap, disoriented and surprised. Something inside him relaxed, for the first time in days.

* * *

The moment Madara landed in the makeshift hideout, he was all but mobbed. Suppressing a stab of irritation, he laid Karma down and backed away. Dakini didn't waste time clasping her friend's neck, and both of them once again retreated in that other world of their ancestral language. There was no place for him there.

Madara turned his back, annoyed, and faced the military commander. "It seems you didn't tell us quite everything. Care to explain why there is such a drain in the village?"

The military commander smirked, smug and cat-canary pleased.

"Hm, the jig is up anyway. I don't think this jutsu is going to do us any good anymore," the he said and pulled his fingers out of the earth. In an instant, the green strands wilted and died.

"There aren't that many people left alive. The rest are about to die, or intend to escape. Oi! Stage three!" He raised his voice at the last words and it carried over the valley, rough and sharp. The Samsara who were alive didn't give any indication of hearing, but they did sprang to two different directions, racing along the edge of the village.

"Hmm. I thought it would have been more trouble," the military commander said, in a 'huh, how about that' kind of voice.

"I was counting on the disruption technique to throw them off the track, but it seems that the chakra absorbing armour was as much of a boon as a burden. The chakra loss was so gradual they didn't notice until it was too late."

"So, what," Tobirama said, voice slow in a way that suggested he was in the middle of a rapid reassessment of the military commander. "You had people do that distance chakra absorption technique? Didn't you say you couldn't use it?"

"It would have been trouble to use _openly_," the military commander corrected. "Clan blood protects from the draining, but that would have done no good if they had had time to use Karma as a hostage. Or run away with her. I also suspected they had _something_ in the store to counter us, since they made such a bold move. So I made use of a distraction, threw some of us at them in a seemingly desperate attack. Meanwhile the rest of us took their stations and started to siphon away chakra."

"But... I didn't notice anything either," said Hashirama, eyebrows encroaching his hairline. "I'm a sensor. And so is Madara. _And_ Tobirama. We should have at least spotted the _people_, even if the battle threw off our sense of disappearing chakra."

"Ah, about that," the commander said, and waved. Everyone looked up just in time to see a crow flutter down, great wings causing hair and clothes to billow in the wind. On its back was a boy of about fifteen, eyes sunken and yellow, and two girls who looked all too young to be in a battlefield.

"It's done. We're going back. Everyone got out fine."

The military commander nodded. "Thank you, Sousuke."

* * *

"You _helped_?" Karma asked, marvel in her voice.

Sousuke shifted, shoulders hunching defensively before he noticed and straightened, as though he had to remind himself to stand tall. "I and a couple of the others volunteered. This was my revenge for ten years ago."

Karma nodded slowly. Sousuke had always had mixed feelings about living with her clan, the guilt over not even trying to avenge his family mixed with gratitude over the life he had been given. This was probably his way of settling that conflict, by directing his feelings at the people who had treated his birth clan like disposable tools.

Behind her, the military commander coughed. It had nothing to do with his throat and everything to do with gathering attention.

"There shouldn't be that many enemies left," he said. "The Oboreshi who didn't die probably ran away. It can't be helped, we were never going to get all of them. But we have to go make sure. There might still be someone strong there."

"Ginkaku and Kinkaku," Karma said. "Two brothers, silver and gold hair. I think I killed one. The other might want revenge. He seemed that kind of person."

"Thank you. You did good, escaping on your own. But I won't let you take part now, stay here and rest," he said and glanced at Madara. His face was unreadable.

"Would you stay with her, Madara-san? You are rather low in chakra as well."

To the general surprise, Madara nodded, dropping down to sit next to Karma.

"Then, we can go. Gentlemen. Ladies."

Hashirama and Tobirama shared a glance and moved as one. Hakkou moved with his usual indifferent grace, while Shitasaki made no secret of her joy over finally getting some action. Dakini raised a meaningful eyebrow at Karma, who gave her a half-breed mix of a smile and a grimace.

"Don't get in trouble," Dakini said and her voice was soft. "We gotta go back together. I'm _hungry_."

"...thank you," Karma replied.

There were more things to be said, but those could wait. Madara's hand was warm on her shoulder.

* * *

Hashirama and the rest had taken off to the centre of the village to flush out anyone hiding there. While Hakkou, Shitasaki and Eiji were good for that kind of thing, Tobirama thought that Hashirama probably just didn't want to mess with his ability inside this particular copse of trees. He couldn't really blame his brother. He didn't want to be here either. The only reason he hadn't stayed in the village with Mito was because he had wanted to see first-hand what the Samsara could do.

(And had he ever. Breaking the fabric of the universe, controlling the Shinigami, then walking away from it with nothing but chakra exhaustion. Bloody hell. Granted, she had nearly died, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her now.)

"Hm. It probably doesn't need to be said, but be careful," said the commander. "Karma only confirmed what I had already assumed. From the time ten years ago, they already seemed like people who might try to leave a distraction to die in their stead and run while at it. That's why I made up my little deception."

"A plan I myself might have come up with," Tobirama said, inclining his head a little. He couldn't help but respect this man a little. At least there was one person who thought like he did; even it meant he was dangerous.

He spotted a hint of movement from the corner of his eye.

"Watch out!"

The shout proved unnecessary, because the commander had already twisted and parried the strike, letting the long nodachi slide to a stop against the root of the blade of his kusarigama.

"You! It was your fucking clan who killed my brother! I'll kill you! I'll kill that _bitch_!"

Their opponent was a tall, bulky man with a mane of dull silvery hair.

The military commander didn't appear all that ruffled. His smile was mild mannered and deadly as poison. "Hm. I assume you're Ginkaku. Nice to meet you. But I'm afraid it'll be the other way around. You tried to kill my cute underling. I can't let you get away with it."

Ginkaku snarled and jumped back, locked blades springing free.

In a different world and years later, Ginkaku and Kinkaku would have been able to seriously injure Tobirama, to the point of threatening his life. But those brothers had had both each other and the chakra of the nine-tails backing them up.

Ginkaku was more than a little exhausted, and distraught.

But then, he wasn't necessarily trying to survive, and he did have an unanticipated advantage.

"Don't hurt the trees," the military commander hissed at Tobirama from the corner of his mouth. "They're sacred to us, the precious remains of our family."

Tobirama almost groaned.

Great. This kind of battle.

"Fine. I'll restrain him, you go for the stab. If we're doing it like this, we can't stretch it out."

The commander grinned. "A man after my own heart, you are. Exactly what I would have suggested."

When their opponent leaped, again aiming for the military commander, Tobirama made a seal. Several copies of him puffed into existence.

The plan worked... _almost_ without a hitch. Tobirama's clones were able to grab hold of Ginkaku's arms and halt the inertia of his strike. The military commander struck his green-glowing kusarigama through the man's neck and pulled up.

However, in his last seconds and fuelled by a destructive sort of dying will, Ginkaku managed to twist enough to plunge his nodachi through his killer's stomach.

Tobirama's clones disappeared in puffs of chakra smoke, as he rushed to support his ally before he fell to his knees. Chakra was sucked out, but, to Tobirama's credit, he barely flinched.

"Ah, damn," said the commander. He sounded like he had hit his toe against a door rather than received a would-be fatal wound. "Help me push it out, would you?"

He took shaky steps behind and pushed against the trunk of a tree to get the blade out. Cringing inwardly, Tobirama took hold of the hilt and pulled.

With the blade out, the commander latched at the nearby tree, breathing heavily. His wound was already closing, so Tobirama was more worried about the flickering green in his eyes.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Hmm, probably," was the distracted answer. "If he wanted revenge, that was a good final strike. He made it count. Right at the gate... This won't heal without scars."

Tobirama refrained from saying a word, seeing as the other man's stomach was already clean and free of any blemish.

It was probably a clan thing.

* * *

Left alone with Madara, Karma wasn't quite sure what to say or think.

"So, you saved my life," she said, giving him a wry smile. "Thank you. It was a big risk you took, approaching me at the brink of my exhaustion."

"I owe you," Madara said, face unreadable. "I can see the world in a different manner, ever since the day in the rain. That is worth a lot."

_...Huh_.

Karma blinked, and tried to readjust her worldview.

Maybe she really had been wrong, assuming that this Madara was fated to be _that_ Madara.

It wasn't as though the manga had ever really given a good account of what had happened. Thinking about it, the change had been radical and rather poorly explained. Hadn't she almost quit the series on occasion, frustrated at the characterisation?

The thought was heavy, and had to be considered. She was the one judging him, even now, a heavy responsibility and the only exception her clan had made in millennia. She shouldn't try to see the worst in him, not when he seemed to be just something of an asshole instead of dangerous and delusional.

If nothing else, this incident should have taught her that assumptions were dangerous. She couldn't take the manga as gospel, and that truth had never been more relevant than now.

And yet, if she was going to be his... friend? she had to be sure of something.

"I'm glad you found what you looked for. You kind of creeped me out, you know, when you stalked me all those weeks. I was _this_ close to telling Hashirama and have him deal with you."

Madara coughed against his hand, diverting his eyes. Karma thought there might have been a hint of red to his ears, but his mane of hair covered them too well to tell.

"Yes. It wasn't my... proudest moment," he said, then went silent and glanced at Karma. He opened his mouth, paused and frowned.

"I... apologise," he said, and the words seemed very reluctant to come out. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

Oh. _Well. _

An actual, real apology. From such a prideful man.

That was... more than she had expected.

For the first time in his company, Karma smiled a true, beaming smile.

* * *

Madara had never cared for politics. In his opinion, there was no need to stab someone in the back with words when a sword was much faster and easier. It even left less of a mess behind, blood was easy to get off once you knew how.

However, it would have been a mistake to assume he _couldn't_ be charming just because he mostly didn't bother. As a clan head, he knew how to read people and even Karma's usual placid countenance betrayed certain things.

He was fairly sure this was a heavy moment, a point of reassessment.

It wasn't even difficult to realise what the problem was. Hadn't he also found his own behaviour shameful?

He had never made a habit of apologising. Why should he do such a thing?

But, if he did say the words, would she think better of him?

He had carelessly torn a rift between them, back when he had looked at her with contempt instead of -

(- instead of what? He had no words for the fluttering of his stomach and shivers down his spine.)

It would be worth it, this once. If only so she'd no longer draw a wall around her heart.

"I... apologise. Don't tell anyone I said that."

And she smiled, a true smile instead of those fake bland things. Madara's heart jolted at the sight, and little shivers went across his skin, making the fine hairs stand up.

It wasn't love, not yet. Something like that didn't bloom in a few short months, not when Madara's heart was all but a barren land.

But there was _potential_.

* * *

Hashirama found his brother and the military commander heading back to where they had left Madara and Karma. Tobirama was supporting the other man, who was clutching at his stomach.

"Are you all right?"

"Hm. Not really," the commander answered, grinning ruefully. "I'll live, but I don't know how chakra moulding will work out from here on. Thank goodness for the trees, as bad as I feel for saying this."

Hashirama hesitated. Was this really a good time to ask?

But then, this was the head of the military. He had more authority than Karma, and could give him straight answers.

"I was wondering, after we have dealt with this, could you take a message to Satoshi? I have a proposition."

"Hm? Yeah, I'll tell him. Let me hear."

Hashirama smiled. It was quite a bit more grim than usual.

"If possible, I'd like to ask you to help us capture the tailed beasts."

* * *

Author's notes:

If Madara's behaviour seemed a little creepy at the end, good. That was the intention, but I don't know how well I was able to portray what I wanted. Basically, he's not at all sorry he acted like a creeper. In chapter five, he was more annoyed at his own lack of self-control and didn't consider Karma's feelings. It's the same now. He only apologised because he thought he'd get something out of it. However, he's also not quite aware of this, and isn't doing it on purpose.

As always, I'd be really grateful if anyone were to point out grammar or language mistakes. I've been meaning to say this, but it seems I really did butcher my attempt at writing 'the village of Preta' in Sanskrit. I would dearly love it if anyone could give me the right symbols.

The Oboreshi were getting a little desperate, hence the half-baked execution of the plan. As they found out, more of the Samsara were slated to visit Konoha, and they were losing what they saw as their only opportunity.

Initially, this conflict was meant to be all open warfare, brutal and bloody. But the military commander turned out to be far smarter than I'd expected and his plot sort of wrote itself. Ah well.

There were several reasons the military commander's plan worked. First, the Oboreshi were expecting a large group of people and didn't notice the 'distraction group' sneaking in. Second, since the distraction force was small and there were no super dangerous people in that group, the Oboreshi thought they had more time and didn't run like devil was breathing down their neck. The military commander's jutsu initially caused some panic, but they quickly found out that it prevented them from using their blood limit and thought it was the only function. They were even a little scornful that the enemy was wasting their energy like that, since they never could use their ability very well in open combat. Air sucked out of oxygen gets replaced with fresh air too quickly.

However, since the Samsara didn't have the advantage of a real surprise attack this time, they weren't able to kill all of the Oboreshi. It was the reality of the situation, and the Samsara made a choice between letting someone kidnap their kin and leaving remnants of a very bitter clan scattered about. No doubt there will be some consequences in the future.


End file.
